


Written on My Bones

by darthvair65



Series: Written on My Bones [1]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Dubious Consent, F/M, M/M, Panic Attacks, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slow Burn, Social Anxiety, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-02-13 12:12:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 108,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2150298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darthvair65/pseuds/darthvair65
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After living in the Underworld for three years following Gaea’s defeat, Nico decides to construct a new life for himself in Venice, Italy. While studying at the local university he develops a somewhat reluctant friendship with another student, who turns his life upside-down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My entry for the Percy Jackson Big Bang! After numerous changes and rewrites, this is what happened: initially I planned for a really intense, plot-driven adventure with Nico and Percy at the wheel. I wanted Nico to have moved on, but I wasn’t sure if I was going to end up writing Percico or not, so I started playing around with the idea for Nico’s boyfriend. Long story short, I fell in love with writing him and writing the two of them together. I got plot blocked like never before, and decided to focus on the story with these two babes. There will be another part of this story coming, there’s no doubt about that – I already have about 30k words invested in the very plotty second half, it’s just going to take a little longer. Until then, enjoy!

**Title:** Written on My Bones

**Betas:** heevok and mongoosestarr, the best wives a girl can ask for

**Wordcount:** 44,500

**Rating:** M

**Pairing:** Nico di Angelo/OMC, background Hazel/Frank

**Warnings:** OCs, panic and anxiety attacks, voyeurism, sex, discussions of past violence

**Summary:** After living in the Underworld for three years following Gaea’s defeat, Nico decides to construct a new life for himself in Venice, Italy. While studying at the local university he develops a somewhat reluctant friendship with another student, who turns his life upside-down.

**A/N:** After numerous changes and rewrites, this is what happened: initially I planned for a really intense, plot-driven adventure with Nico and Percy at the wheel. I wanted Nico to have moved on, but I wasn’t sure if I was going to end up writing Percico or not, so I started playing around with the idea for Nico’s boyfriend. Long story short, I fell in love with writing him and writing the two of them together. I got plot blocked like never before, and decided to focus on the story with these two babes. There will be another part of this story coming, there’s no doubt about that – I already have about 30k words invested in the very plotty second half, it’s just going to take a little longer. Until then, enjoy!

 

The first time Nico di Angelo breathed the free air in three years, he felt only the briefest surge of relief (and the tiniest bit of anxiety thanks to the hint of salt in the air) before he cringed and slapped his hands over his ears, cowering away from the hysterical shrieks of teen boys and girls. He flailed, his arms pinwheeling as he dodged the stampede of tweens tearing down the sidewalk. Nico had exited the recording studio that served as the entrance to the Underworld in Los Angeles, and promptly slipped into the alleyway right beside the studio to avoid being trampled underfoot. He flattened himself against the rough brick wall, breathing hard and glaring out towards the entryway of the alley through loose strands of black hair.

When they passed about three minutes later, still screaming energetically, Nico allowed his entire body to slump against the wall. It figured, he thought bitterly, that his first foray topside would coincide with a concert and a stampede of screaming fans of the band – a Korean one, if he’d read their shirts correctly. He’d been hoping for a quiet, easy transition given that he’d spent nearly three whole years working jobs for Hades throughout the Underworld: four years of living in relative darkness had possibly irrevocably shifted his eyesight. The afternoon light, even dimmed in an alley, stung his eyes; it took everything not to shy away, hissing like some absurd vampire cursing the sun. Instead he took a few deep breaths, allowing himself some time to get used to the sounds of the city once again. It was a far cry from the dark, dreary metropolises that had sprung up around the Underworld in the last few decades, between the noise of traffic and the huge numbers of living, breathing, _lively_ people.

Steeling himself, Nico went over his mental list, carefully reconsidering each stop – leveraging what he’d insisted needed to be done with things he was less sure of – until he shook his head and pulled the shadows around him, blanketing himself in darkness and following the paths to Camp Jupiter.

Hazel nearly squeezed the life out of him when he sat down opposite her in a café by the university she was attending. Nico was glad that she was hugging him so tightly and refused to let go for several minutes, because he never wanted to admit to the tears that tracked over his cheeks in response to her embrace.

“You’re taller,” she whispered thickly, sniffling as she pulled back to look at him, her hands cupping his jaw as if to hold him steady.

Nico snorted at that, because if anything he really hadn’t grown much in comparison to her. Hazel was only slightly shorter than him even now, but she’d grown from a wide-eyed, determined thirteen-year-old to a bright and serene teenager, golden eyes sparkling in the evening sun. Nico could feel the magic sparking through her aura as they sat, thrumming right beneath the surface like a strong, steady pulse. She looked every inch a self-assured young woman and demigod, and Nico could tell she had left behind a lot of her old insecurities with the fall of Gaea.

He didn’t really feel that different, even if she insisted that he’d grown. He may have grown a couple of inches, but Nico still felt like the awkward, gangly kid who never really knew where to fit in. With the help of his father Nico had been working on developing his abilities, and while that had helped him develop some physical strength a lot of his powers were tapped through strength of mind. He knew he was still pale – it was inevitable, given the amount of time he spent in the cold amongst the dead, so it felt as though he was still the same person that left the mortal world three years ago – just stretched a little.

Nico finally shrugged in response to her comment, and they carried on, catching up on what had been going on in their lives.

Hazel didn’t ask very much about the Underworld, which Nico thought was understandable – it never really changed, anyway. She offered up information instead, saying that Frank was at a Praetor’s meeting with Reyna and if he wanted to stick around Frank would be ecstatic to see him again; Jason was at Camp Half-Blood with Piper and the others, and he in particular asked about Nico every time she saw him; Leo was managing forges in both camps, slipping back and forth between them to learn and share different techniques that he picked up along the way; Annabeth was double majoring in Civil Engineering and Architecture at NYU, and she was actually engaged to – who else? Nico wondered bitterly before stamping down on the feeling – Percy, who was getting his degree in Marine Biology at the same school. There were rumors, hints of an upcoming wedding that would merge the two camps temporarily, but Hazel was unsure of when that might end up taking place. They still had a year left to finish school.

Nico took in all of this information, blandly nodding when she talked about Percy so casually. He’d been over his feelings for Percy for two years now, but being over it didn’t stop a rush of negative feelings about their last encounters from surfacing.

“Jason will be angry if you disappear again without at least saying ‘hi,’” Hazel said pointedly, jolting Nico from his thoughts.

“Jason can’t always get what he wants,” Nico rolled his eyes.

“Would you really take off without seeing some of us?” Hazel asked, frowning into her cup of _espresso_. “You’ve been gone for three years. I’ve only spoken to you on a few occasions while you’ve been gone – did it ever occur to you that we might miss you?”

Nico blinked at her, feeling a small pang of hurt blossom in his chest. He hadn’t meant to make her feel worse.

“Do you think you can still do that . . . favor for me?”

Hazel sighed, deflating. “Of course.”

Nico understood that he was asking her to expend a lot of magic for him, and that it was the biggest favor he’d ever asked of her. It warmed his heart that she was so ready to help him accomplish his ideas. He reached over and clasped her hand, then leaned in and kissed her forehead. “Thank you so much. I don’t think you know how much I appreciate this.”

He didn’t stay for very long – Nico had a Plan, and if he was going to follow through with the Plan he needed to keep moving.

After Camp Jupiter, where Nico dodged the wary and awed stares of the younger Roman demigods and spoke with Hazel, Frank, Reyna, and Jason, Nico shadow traveled to Long Island and Camp Half-Blood. It was late by then, and nearly all the campers were asleep. He sat and talked with Hestia for a little while before turning and staring intently at the door to Cabin 3. Hestia had told him that Percy and Annabeth were visiting for the weekend, but he wasn’t really sure what he would do or say if they crossed paths. It wasn’t as though he could pick up right where they left off and be pseudo-friends.

In the end he simply walked away, shoving the door to his own cabin open so he could nap for a little while. Nico fully expected the place to be dirty and dusty, given that he hadn’t really stayed there in years. However when he opened up the door, he was met with a disturbing sight: someone had clearly been in to clean recently. The surfaces were all dusted, his bed was freshly laundered and the sheets put back in place, and the floors had been swept too, as if the cleaner had been expecting his return.

Already exhausted, Nico pushed those thoughts from his mind to be examined at a later date, and collapsed face first into the fresh, clean sheets, falling asleep immediately.

His alarm woke him up before dawn, and Nico forced himself out of bed. He shoved all his remaining clothes into his pack and made the bed again. Then he took himself to a bank in New Hampshire to empty out the trust fund Hades had set up for his and Bianca’s education, before turning around and setting up an international account that he would be able to access anywhere.

Flush with cash for the last part of the Plan, Nico still felt too exhausted to make another significant trip, so he picked a random hotel and slept for the remainder of the day.

The next time Nico pulled the shadows around himself, he opened his eyes to a crystal clear bay filled with fishing boats and water taxis, and the smell of fishmongers and brine filled his nose. The deed to a penthouse belonging to his mother sat heavy in his pocket, along with a slip of paper guaranteeing his spot at a local secondary school. This would be the hardest part of the Plan: he’d faked some of the paperwork and testing, but he’d gotten accepted into the school so he could effectively finish up his schooling and move on to university, so he could maybe start doing something for himself for a change.

 

**1 year later**

‘Lucky’ was not a word Dante Salvai often used to describe himself. He had a history of terrible choices and less than stellar self esteem thanks to those events, and often – more often than not, let’s be honest – his behavior landed him in hot water with those around him, namely his mother. Dante was the third of seven children born to Marco and Lisa Salvai, who lived just outside Venice and who had made their living from the tourist industry that dominated the region. His father worked as a gondolier, while his mother and grandparents cooked for a catering company. Dante ended up getting drafted into some form of cooking when he was very young, and later he got saddled with the dubious honor of babysitting his three younger sisters, since his parents were usually out working. They didn’t live on very much despite all of them working, and Dante saw early on the hardships they dealt with trying to keep their family afloat.

His teen years were pretty bleak in his memory, mostly his own doing, but in the last few years Dante had seen his luck start to change. He managed to pull through secondary school with fair grades – small miracles – and get into the local university to study History. Dante found himself being able to focus better – he was enjoying his classes and the atmosphere, and he’d even made a few friends that promised to make things even better.

The most miraculous turn of events occurred in a bar, however, rather than on the university campus or in a classroom. It was the briefest of meetings, but it was enough to change the course of Dante’s life in the years to come.

The first time Dante met Nico, he was in a café close to the university campus grabbing a _caffe correto_ before class; Dante placed his order and queued up to pay. The café was bustling now, filled with students and older men lingering over their espresso and pastries before dragging themselves to their jobs. Dante always thought they looked miserable.

Two Euros gone, and Dante sidled up to the bar just as a tiny cup of espresso and sambucca was placed in front of him. The man standing beside him at the bar vacated the space, and a much younger and shorter man took it. A steaming latte was placed in front of the younger man, who thanked the barista. Dante blinked and raised an eyebrow; the young man’s Italian was impeccable, but there was something off about his accent that threw him. Then he realized why.

He glanced to his left as he downed the _caffe corretto_ and promptly froze, just a little. The guy standing beside was unexpectedly attractive: he was about Dante’s height, with messy, ink-black hair that hung in strands over his eyes, and Dante had caught a glimpse of deep brown irises before eyelids closed over them as he sipped his latte, no sugar added. His eyes were deep-set, and there were dark circles beneath them, indicating long-term lack of sleep. His skin was weirdly pale, as though it was originally much darker but he’d been drained of life and color over time, leaving him looking vaguely ill. Dante paid no attention to that though, as his gaze was too busy cataloguing high cheekbones, long fingers with the nails chewed down, and (if he used his imagination, because like Dante the other man was wrapped up tight in a winter coat and scarf) a wiry thin body.

Realizing he’d been standing there, frozen with his cup –totally drained now – still poised at his mouth for almost a whole minute, Dante blushed and hastily put his cup back in the saucer. He tapped his fingers against the bar, trying desperately to think of a reason to talk to this stranger, who was dutifully ignoring his strange behavior – classic Italian etiquette in a bar.

So he threw out the first thing he could think of, and automatically felt the desire to smack himself in the face.

“Do you have a light?” he asked in what might have been Italian; he wasn’t entirely sure, because his voice cracked like a pubescent boy’s halfway through.

The stranger paused and looked up at him, and Dante could practically read the thoughts going through his head: _My God you are a fucking idiot_.

“You can’t smoke in here,” the young man said, answering once again in his perfect Italian with his perfectly weird accent.

Dante froze again, because yes that was true and Fuck you Salvai, you don’t even have any cigarettes with you, he cursed himself. “Right. Sorry.”

The American continued to stare at him for another few seconds before leaving; Dante surreptitiously watched him go, pouting inwardly and wondering what the fuck was wrong with him. Still, he resisted the urge to bash his head into the counter.

0o0

The first time Nico met Dante he was a little startled because in general strangers avoided talking with him; he was fairly certain that he gave everyone, in the words of an old acquaintance, ‘the freaky-deakies’. Thus, when he felt a pair of eyes on him he tried to maintain his cool, because that feeling of the hair standing up on the back of his neck generally meant that monsters were coming to call – still, he didn’t feel anything magical or malevolent about the man standing beside him, who was definitely staring at him out of the corner of his eye.

Then the man turned, and asked him if he had a light.

The bar was one Nico had taken to visiting nearly every morning since the semester had begun; it felt wonderful to settle into a familiar and comforting routine in this city after being a vagabond for so long, and even though the Underworld had offered him a routine and things to do, none of them were things he necessarily enjoyed. Here though, living in his mother’s apartment and walking the same streets that she once did, immersing himself in his mother’s culture, he felt at home and relaxed. People largely ignored him, which was fine and expected, so he could go about his day without really worrying about what other people thought or how they perceived him.

So when the stranger turned and actively tried to engage him in social interaction, he really wasn’t sure how to respond.

Nico stared at him, taking in the curly mop of dark brown hair, soft brown eyes, and nervous smile. He had the same olive-toned skin that nearly everyone in this part of the Mediterranean had, and was bundled up in a worn, grey pea coat and a knitted scarf. He desperately wanted to say something clever or nice, but he said the first words to come to mind instead – effectively and inadvertently shutting the man down. Nico watched as other man withdrew in embarrassment over his flub, and Nico took that opportunity to escape.

0o0

The second time Dante met Nico, he actually got around to introducing himself. It was several weeks after their first encounter, and Dante’s bus was running late so when he finally got to his classroom, most of the seats were taken. He was usually here much earlier and grabbed a prime spot closer to the front, but that morning he was left scanning the room desperately for a free seat. After several awkward moments he spied several open seats around a young guy who looked vaguely familiar.

Once he remembered why that guy in particular was familiar to him, Dante felt a surge of glee and picked his way over to the open seating. But instead of taking one behind or in front of him, Dante elected to grab the seat directly beside him.

“You mind if I sit here?” he asked breathlessly, dropping his bookbag quietly.

The other guy jerked his head to look at him, apparently surprised that someone intended to sit near him. Once again Dante felt briefly struck by his dark eyes and tentative smile. “Sure,” he responded, before turning back to pay attention to the lecture.

They didn’t speak for another forty-five minutes, as the man sitting beside him took careful, meticulous notes while Dante floundered under the information being thrown at him. Literature had never really been his strongest suit, and while he enjoyed reading he didn’t spend hours thinking about symbolism and metaphors for a reason. A few times during the block his attention wavered and he found himself watching the other man’s hand move across the lined pages of his notebook; he had long, pale fingers, but he felt more drawn to the gleaming silver skull ring adorning one finger. During the break though, the other man didn’t get out of his seat; he stayed, reading over his notes, and Dante decided to break the ice.

“You know,” he said, clearing his throat; the man sitting next to him paused mid-read, and looked at Dante out of the corner of his eye. “I wanted you to know, I’m not actually crazy.”

“I’m sorry?”

Oh shit. He doesn’t remember. “Oh. I, uh, I saw you in a bar a couple weeks ago. Asked you for a light, and we were in a bar and I didn’t actually have any cigarettes on me, so it was kind of a stupid question. I just wanted you to know that I’m not actually crazy,” Dante cut off his own rambling, internally wincing. Way to go, Salvai.

Dark, penetrating eyes stared at him for a moment before they widened ever so slightly with recognition. “Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t remember.”

“It’s – it’s ok, I just remember my own incredibly stupid moments vividly, and I just wanted to tell you that . . . yeah. Well.”

“That’s good, I guess.”

After a brief pause, Dante extended his hand. It wasn’t a standard in Italian culture to shake hands upon meeting someone, but he figured using an American one might encourage the other man to relax slightly. “I’m Dante Salvai.”

The young man’s gaze dropped to his hand a few seconds before he took it with his own smaller hand. “Nico. Nico di Angelo.”

Dante liked the way his name rolled off his tongue; it sounded right.

He purposefully arrived late after that, sometimes lingering a little too long at the bar with his espresso so he could walk in and take a seat next to Nico. The other man didn’t seem to mind, and even appeared to expect his arrival after a few weeks. They talked during the short breaks, mostly just about little superficial things; still Dante learned that he was a native of Venice, his mother had moved the family to America when Nico was a child, that he’d only recently returned to Venice (hence his American-accented Italian) and that Nico was in his first year at university. All this information was shared in a cordial, friendly way – but it was clear to Dante that Nico was keeping him at a distance.

“I’d like to be your friend,” Dante mentioned one day after class.

Nico stared at him like he had five heads. “Why?”

Dante felt a little stung by the question; why did anyone ask for reasons when someone wanted to be their friend? “Well you seem like a pretty nice guy, you’re interesting, and to be honest I haven’t seen you talk to anyone in this class or on campus – I’ve been here for a while, I could show you around. If you want,” he added quickly, feeling the blush creep onto his cheeks.

Nico blinked owlishly. “Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean . . . I’m not really used to people actively seeking me out for friendship.”

That didn’t seem to fit with Dante at all. “I don’t see why not,” he said stubbornly.

The smile that slowly unfurled on Nico’s face was tentative and small, but filled with the same hope that Dante felt.

0o0

Nico was unsure what he was supposed to do about the young man in his class who had seemed to decide that they should be friends.

He was used to people ignoring him or pretending that he simply wasn’t there – Nico understood that his presence made certain people uncomfortable, given that he radiated what Hazel described as ‘a foreboding aura,’ which he figured probably was a polite way of saying he felt like death and darkness and all sorts of morose shit. People in Venice largely steered clear of him, engaging him in polite, detached conversation when necessary but otherwise keeping their respectful distance. For several classes at the beginning of the semester, Nico had sat by himself, surrounded on all sides by empty desks. He didn’t mind that; it gave him plenty of space to lay his stuff out and didn’t make him feel like he was being crowded into the space.

All that changed when another student, who seemed vaguely familiar though Nico couldn’t place it at first, approached after he arrived to the class late and asked if he could sit beside him. Nico had stared at him blankly, uncomprehending at first, before he agreed belatedly. It wasn’t like there were very many other seats to be found, but it still surprised him that the young man picked the seat directly beside him as opposed to the others left empty surrounding him.

Throughout the class he was oddly aware of his presence; after being left alone for such a long time, suddenly having someone right beside him felt like an invasion of his space. He mentally berated himself; it was silly, feeling invaded and crowded with just this single person there. Nico forced himself to focus on the instructor and his meticulous notes. He couldn’t help but notice that the young man beside him paused in his note-taking quite a lot, his hands gesturing in motions that he recognized as expressing confusion and disbelief. Still, Nico did his best to ignore him.  

Halfway through the class he turned and began chatting with Nico, mentioning that they’d met before in a bar. Nico frowned inwardly, wondering how or why the other man remembered him from that brief encounter several weeks ago. After a few moments of wracking his brain Nico remembered the awkward exchange.

The other man was persistent; he continued sitting beside Nico long after he would have assumed that Dante might have moved on to socialize with someone more open and talkative. Overall, Nico found he didn’t mind Dante hanging around. It was nice to have someone to talk to, who didn’t mind when Nico wasn’t sure what he should say.

It had been a long time since he’d had significant social interaction with another living, breathing person. Following the battle against Gaea, Nico had retreated to the Underworld – just as he’d planned. He’d done his best to help as much as he could, helping reinforce the wards and defenses at Camp Half-Blood after successfully talking that idiot Octavian down from his radical quest of destruction and brokering a tentative peace between the two camps. They’d barely settled the terms of their peace before Gaea’s secondary army attacked, hoping to destroy both camps of demigods while they were in negotiations. Gaea’s monsters were routed after a long, intense fight, and Nico stayed behind while others went to act as the cavalry for Percy and the Seven. Nico insisted on staying behind to properly bring the departed souls down into the Underworld. After that task was finished, Nico said his goodbyes sparingly and slipped back into the shadows to help serve his father again. He’d been so sure that the Seven and the other demigods didn’t need or want him around – they certainly didn’t really trust him, no matter what any of them said, so it had seemed like the best option at the time.

It was . . . nice, though – having someone to talk to. Dante seemed friendly and open, and when they spoke Nico didn’t feel as though his every action and response was being analyzed for his motives and advantages. It felt good to talk to someone who seemed genuinely interested and friendly, and was a welcome addition to his routine. Once he became used to the idea of Dante being around him more consistently, Nico came to look forward to their interactions.

0o0

Being friends with Nico was surprisingly easy, once he got past the idea of the other man being unsure about the whole thing; Nico seemed to expect Dante to lose interest after a bit, but was quietly pleased by his continued presence in his life.

They parted ways after class and maybe another round of espresso, and Dante soon began to wonder what Nico did after that – where he went, what he was interested in, where he even lived.

The latter question was answered when Nico forgot a book of Dante’s that he was borrowing, and invited Dante back to his apartment so he could get it. Dante agreed after the surge of glee passed through him, and walked with Nico towards his apartment. He didn’t expect Nico to head directly for Venice proper, or to cross over dozens of bridges over smelly canals into an old, very affluent section of the city. Dante quickly began to feel distinctly uncomfortable and envious of the people carrying numerous bags from high end stores. He would be lucky if he could save enough for the down payment on an apartment this year, yet here he was following an apparently loaded friend into a whole new section of Venice he’d never experienced before.

Nico never paused, and walked straight into a beautiful, stately complex that had been built in the late nineteenth century. There were five floors, each with their own expansive terraces dripping with plants – except for one on the top floor. The fifth floor balcony was barren.

“You live here?” Dante hissed as he looked around the lush sitting room. The security guard nodded to his friend, and opened the clearly retrofitted elevator door for them.

“It belonged to my m-grandmother,” he said, smiling sadly. “I was her last living relative, so it came to me.”

“Was she an heiress or something?” Dante squeaked, his cheeks coloring with embarrassment.

“An actress, actually. She was a soprano too, but never wanted to pursue opera.” The elevator stopped on the top floor, right in front of an unassuming portal. Nico unlocked the door, and led him inside a spacious, opulent, and thoroughly dirty apartment.

It was clear that no one had been inside to clean – other than Nico’s apparently rudimentary dusting  - from the layers of dust and cobwebs clinging to the chairs. A grand piano in the corner was caked in dust, and the portraits on the wall were faded. Papers were littered everywhere, as were clothes – as if the prior occupants had packed and left in a hurry.

Dante looked over at Nico quickly, and found him fiddling his hands. “I haven’t gotten to this room yet, sorry it’s so disgusting. The others are better – this way.”

In a daze, Dante continued to follow him. It was so surreal, meandering through the abandoned home of a dazzlingly rich lady two generations gone. Nico led him through a dining room and into a kitchen, which was clearly where Nico spent the most time: the whole space was immaculately clean, though it was clear to him that no one had updated the place since Nico’s grandmother lived there. A small table was set up by the window, groaning under the weight of huge textbooks and an old typewriter. Nico began shuffling books around, while Dante surreptitiously looked around.

Over the bookshelf containing numerous dusty cookbooks an old poster was hung; it depicted a stately, beautiful woman with olive-toned skin, dark, flowing hair, and narrow, deep brown eyes opposite a young soldier, bearing the caption ROCCO ORTILANI AND MARIA DI ANGELO STAR IN A TALE THAT PROVES: TRUE LOVE NEVER DIES!

It was as if an egg timer had gone off with a rather loud ding in Dante’s head.

“Maria di Angelo is your grandmother?” Dante demanded.

Nico flat-out stared. “You know who she is?”

“Yeah,” Dante nodded, the surreal feeling returning. “I’ve even seen that movie. My grandparents loved her movies. She wasn’t huge, but she had a pretty good fan base from what my grandpa said. And you – you’re living in her house!”

“I claimed it when I came back here,” Nico explained. “No one had touched it since she headed for America in the late thirties.”

“How did you find out you were related? My grandpa told me she died in a building collapse, but her two kids were never found. The rumor was that they survived and went into foster care.”

Nico had gone pale, and looked away nervously when Dante mentioned the accident that had claimed his grandmother’s life. “A family lawyer told me. I wasn’t eligible for her inheritance until I was seventeen though.”

Dante peered back up at the vintage movie poster at the beautiful, elegant woman. His grandfather had old, tattered photographs of her, and the artist had done her justice. Something about her struck him as incredibly similar though, and he opened his mouth before he could think about what he was saying or even stop himself.

“You have her eyes,” he uttered softly, glancing back down to Nico’s stunned face. Oh shit, Dante thought in a panic, he looks like he’s about to cry. “I mean – crap, I’m sorry-“

“No, no, it’s ok,” Nico said reassuringly, but the sad smile still lingered on his face. “That’s – thank you. You don’t have to apologize.”

Nico pulled a book out from under a stack of notes – all written in his meticulous, neat handwriting – and handed it to him.

“Listen . . . would you be interested in staying for lunch?”

Dante felt his stomach flip in excitement. “Sure,” he said, trying to contain his happiness at the invitation.

“I don’t have much in the way of food, I usually get something from a place two canals over-“

Dante cringed inwardly, mentally calculating how expensive a place in this section of Venice would charge for lunch. “Nico,” he interrupted his friend. “I’ll cook.”

Nico sputtered at the offer. “I didn’t invite you to stay so I could force you to cook!”

“Relax,” Dante laughed. “I love cooking. I’ve been cooking with my Nonna and Mama since I was old enough to hold a whisk. You’ve never tasted an arrabbiatta like my Nonna’s.”

Dante didn’t get home until much later that evening, which resulted in his mama beaming him in the head with a flying spoon as he walked in the door. She interrogated him for fifteen minutes after that, smelling his breath and critically assessing the dilation of his pupils before deciding that he definitely hadn’t gotten into trouble again. Dante rubbed at the welt forming on his head as he explained what had happened that afternoon, and his mama’s expression softened exponentially. He told her about Nico, and how he made the other man lunch while they talked and discussed their courses.

“He sounds like a nice boy,” Mama said, combing Dante’s hair with her fingers. It was like an instinct for her, ever since he was little; back then he could crawl into her lap and she would tell him stories, all while carding her fingers through his thick, loose curls. “You should invite him over for dinner if you like him.”

“I don’t want to scare him away, Mama,” Dante snorted.

She smacked him upside the head. “Does that mean you’re ashamed of your family, Dante? I didn’t go through twelve hours of labor to get this treatment from you!”

“Ok, ok, I’ll ask. Later.”

“If he survives dinner with us he’ll make you a good match. Now go wash up, we’ve been waiting for you.”

Dante found himself blushing; he liked Nico, certainly, but he wasn’t really sure how interested he was in whether Nico was a ‘good match’ or not. Mama had been trying to gently prod him back into dating in the last year, making comments here and there about one friend or another and probing into whether he liked the person or not. It had been six years now since the utter horror show that had been his last ‘relationship,’ but Dante still wasn’t sure he was completely ready to enter into that field again. The thought of dating made him a little anxious, to be honest. “It’s not like that, Mama. He’s my friend.”

“Good friends make the best spouses,” she said, patting his cheek.

“We’re not getting _married_ ,” Dante groused,

“Of _course_ not,” she corrected herself. “Your father wouldn’t survive the fits of stroke if you got married.” Mama paused, pursing her lips. “But a partner would do you good, I know it. Don’t give up just yet.”

Dante tried his best not to roll his eyes, because he knew that she had his best interests in mind. She wanted him, above all, to be happy, and he wouldn’t argue with that. He just hoped she wouldn’t go around embarrassing him in front of Nico.

0o0

Nico invited Dante over to his apartment to hang out and study a lot more after the lunch that turned into an all-afternoon affair. Sometimes they actually did work, while other times Dante helped him unpack some boxes filled with his belongings. Nico didn’t actually have a lot of physical possessions to call his own, Dante realized. Most were clothes, but one small box – it was honestly the size of a shoebox – was stuffed with personal effects that were hard for Nico to go through. He wondered what Nico’s life was like before coming into his mother’s inheritance, if all his clothes could fit in a trash bag and the things he kept close fit in a small box. Nico had described his childhood and adolescence as ‘mobile’ before he and his sister were enrolled in a military school, which might have explained his lack of personal possessions. The fact that Nico was even allowing him to help and access things from his childhood spoke a great deal to his trust in Dante, which he readily acknowledged.

At the very bottom of the box was a cloth bag about the size of his fist; Dante pulled it out felt the contents of the bag. He could feel a deck of cards easily, and a slew of miniature figurines. “What’s this?” he asked.

Nico glanced over and blinked. “Oh, wow. I didn’t think I still had those,” he muttered, turning red. “That’s what’s left of my Mythomagic deck.”

“Seriously? Mythomagic?” Dante asked incredulously. “Nerd.”

“You did not just call me that!” Nico squawked. It was a hilarious sound that Dante loved pulling from him.

“I definitely did,” he chortled.

“You jerk,” Nico muttered, grabbing the bag from his hands and pulling out the deck of cards. He fanned them out, fingers gently tracing the edges like was remembering long-forgotten friends.

“I’m sorry,” Dante said a few moments later. “I didn’t really mean that. My mama never wanted to spend the money we had on card games. Will you show me how to play?”

The smile Nico gave him was bright and earnest, and Dante never wanted it to leave.

An hour later Dante was overwhelmed. Nico had explained everything very well and they had started playing an easy, slow-paced game, but there was still a lot to remember.

“You’re missing a figurine,” he realized, looking at the lineup of miniatures representing the Greek gods.

“I am?” Nico started, then his expression fell a little. “Oh yeah.”

“Poseidon, I think.” Dante’s grasp on Greek mythology wasn’t fantastic, but he knew some of the gods.

“Yeah, I gave that one away.”

Dante frowned at Nico. Based on his behavior around this game, Dante had come to the conclusion that Nico was a collector: he remembered the stats of each card as if he’d memorized them during his childhood (he totally had, Nico wasn’t fooling anyone) and Dante just knew that he would have been one of those kids that obsessively bought expansion decks and collector’s edition sets to make sure he had everything. Yet he’d given the figurine representing one of the most powerful in-game characters – and his personal favorite to play with, if he went back to Nico’s descriptions - away?

When Dante raised an eyebrow at him, Nico shrugged. “Someone else needed to be reminded that it was ok to be a kid,” he said, offering no further explanation.

(Nico wished he could say that Percy had gotten that message; in truth, he had no idea whether Percy understood why the figurine had been left behind on his cabin dresser – or if he’d even seen it.)

0o0

When the time finally came that he couldn’t put off meeting Dante’s family anymore, Nico felt like he was going to vomit.

It was an anxious affair for Nico. He’d only recently allowed Dante into his life as a friend, and based on everything he’d told him about his family, Nico was fairly certain he was going to be completely overwhelmed by them. That did not bode well for his nerves, which were still somewhat fragile; he didn’t do very well in crowds, but it was almost worse in small, intimate gatherings wherein everyone pressed in around him, leaving him little space to move or breathe. He expressed some of this concern to Dante, who simply grimaced a little and tried to reassure him that it was going to be fine, that he just had to be himself and they’d be alright with him

Still, the prospect of meeting one set of grandparents, his parents, and six siblings all in one sitting was enough to give him a panic attack.

Dante and his family lived in a medieval neighborhood outside of Venice, on the mainland, in an old house that was part of a long line of connected homes. The steps inside were well worn, and everything on the street felt old – as if the modern world had given up with the slow pace of the neighborhood and simply left it behind. Nico counted multiple _lares_ , all of whom watched him carefully and suspiciously from their doorsteps.

The second Dante let him in the door, Nico was grabbed by the collar of his jacket and dragged away from the door; the person who grabbed him twisted him around and gripped his upper arms, holding him steady. His captor was a middle-aged woman who stood up to his shoulders, with curly, dark auburn hair that reached her jaw and deep brown eyes. She looked so remarkably like Dante, it was unmistakable that this was his mother.

Her lips pursed as her gaze raked over him critically, assessing him from every angle she could while she had him in her grasp. Her eyes narrowed at his neck, as if she was disappointed not to find something there, but her expression turned to what might have been worry as she took in his skinny frame.

“Mrs. Salvai?” Nico guessed, giving her his best winning smile despite the mounting anxiety.

“Mama, this is Nico,” Dante said, somewhere behind him. “Nico, this is my Mama.”

“Hi,” Nico said, hoping her silence didn’t mean rejection.

Apparently it did not, because a second later she was tugging him in to kiss his cheeks in greeting and pull him into a bone-crushing hug. Nico flailed, his voice failing as she hugged him tightly.

When she finally released him Nico gasped loudly for breath, fighting to calm himself down from the impending panic attack that had been building when she pulled him in close.

The rest of Dante’s family were (luckily for him) slightly less enthusiastic about his arrival, though he thought they were friendly and cordial enough for their first meeting. After meeting his Mama, two younger sisters greeted him from inside the kitchen, where they were helping their mother prepare dinner. Dante’s father offered him a stiff nod and a stiffer welcome, but Dante assured him that it was pretty good considering he was a conservative Catholic still coming to terms with things surrounding the sexuality of his youngest son.

That little bit of information about Dante had been revealed only a few days before in casual conversation; while Nico didn’t say anything about himself in response, he still felt more of a kinship towards his friend in the aftermath. Nico didn’t want to know what it might have been like for Dante when he first realized he was gay, though he could imagine that his reaction might have been along the same lines as his, after he came to terms with his feelings for Percy: terror, fear of rejection, denial, and self-hatred were all feelings he was uncomfortably familiar with.

The rest of his family filtered in and met him happily; his older sister Caterina seemed genuinely pleased by his presence at dinner, though she joined in with his brothers in some friendly interrogation. Despite the stress and sweat starting to accumulate under their scrutiny, Nico understood that they were just trying to protect him. Dante was their brother, and he’d told Nico that they shared a very close bond.

(Something had occurred between them years before, Nico had figured out. Dante made passing, vague references to an event that had completely shifted their relationship and made them closer, though Dante had also referred to the event as ‘the worst of his life.’ He didn’t talk about it much beyond that, and Nico couldn’t help but be morbidly curious about what had happened between them. Their protectiveness was obvious, and while Dante put up a little bit of a fight when they interrogated Nico he seemed to enjoy their protectiveness as well. Nico filed those observations away for another time, when he could properly act as a detective and figure that relationship out.)

Despite his growing comfort, it was still hard to keep his heart rate from rising dangerously. This was a situation he still didn’t feel completely comfortable with – Dante was his friend, and he trusted him, but being surrounded by the other man’s family still stoked his anxiety. He felt too vulnerable, too exposed, and the touch of those he didn’t know still made something uncomfortable clench in his chest.

Once the dinner was over and Dante bid him goodnight, Nico shadow traveled back to his mother’s apartment and clung to the bathroom sink, breathing raggedly as he fought down a bout of nausea.

Dante’s mother had welcomed him back before he left. Visits to their house would have to become easier, or else he wouldn’t be able to continue like that.

0o0

Not long after that first dinner, Dante began to notice that Nico was hedging on agreeing to go to his house; recently he’d been finding excuses not to go, but Dante had learned his friend’s physical cues for anxiety and stress after being in classes with him for a few months. They were at Nico’s apartment doing homework when he decided to bring this up, after yet another failed attempt to bring him back for dinner.

“You want to tell me what’s up?” Dante asked quietly.

“What do you mean?” Nico answered quickly. “There’s nothing wrong.”

“You’ve been avoiding going back to my house for a while. Mama is worried you’re not getting enough food on your own,” he teased gently.

Nico fidgeted with the silver skull on his finger. “You won’t be mad?”

“Do you have a problem with my family?” Dante asked. “Did my dad or siblings upset you, is that why you’re anxious to go back?”

Nico jolted like he’d been stung. “No, no one in your family upset me. Your family is wonderful Dante, you’re incredibly lucky to have them. It’s nothing bad about your family – it’s me, to be honest.”

Dante opened his hands in a receptive gesture. “Talk to me.”

“I don’t really like . . . being touched. Especially by people I don’t know very well,” Nico mumbled, looking away from him. “I’m very careful to leave myself a decent amount of personal space, and I know your mother just wants me to feel welcome and all, but . . . when she grabs me and pulls me in for a hug – when I arrive and when I leave – I start panicking. It’s embarrassing and it really freaks me out – the panic, the anxiety.”

“Oh. Shit, I’m sorry. I’ll get her to back off. I had no idea.” Well, Dante mentally amended, he did have some idea that Nico wasn’t very keen on touching, but he had no idea that it was bad enough to give him a panic attack.

“It’s ok, I figured that she probably didn’t know – and I didn’t say, because it’s embarrassing, I can’t even hug a friend’s mother without wanting to bolt.”

“So every time you come over my house you’re fighting down the urge to panic and run away? Jeez, just say something,” Dante scolded him gently. “No one is going to hate you for speaking up about something that’s bothering you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“And I’m the first to admit she kind of smothers people in general, I am a constant victim of her smothering. I’ll tell her to stop, ok?”

Nico took a shaky breath, releasing tension from his body. “Thank you.”

The next time they went to Dante’s house for dinner, his mother once again grabbed Nico’s arms and held him fast as she kissed his cheeks; then she pulled away, looking at him sadly, and patted his right cheek with her palm.

0o0

“There was this guy,” Nico said, waving his hand dismissively, by way of explanation. He muttered the words with a world-weary sigh, as if just admitting that a) he had crushed on a guy and b) that he was still kind of bothered by it was embarrassing and annoying. They’d been friends for nearly three months now, which was long enough for Nico to clean out the living room in his grandmother’s place, where they sat now.

Despite Nico’s obvious desire to dismiss the whole topic, Dante found himself intrigued. Nico had only mentioned a vague person here and there as they got closer and more comfortable with one another, but he’d never identified a sex before. Dante twisted around on the couch to peer over at Nico’s chair, crossing his arms and nestling his chin on them. “What was his name? What was he like?”

“Totally and completely insufferable,” Nico sighed after a moment of hesitation. “A smartass, and – you know when people describe knights in shining armor? Like that. His name was Percy,” he said quietly after a brief moment.

“How old were you?”

Nico chewed on his lip contemplatively. “I met him when I was eleven. Worshipped him like a hero. Even when I realized he wasn’t – perfect, you know – I wanted to hate him, but I just couldn’t.”

“So what happened?”

“He loved someone else - this girl he’d known forever. They were perfect for each other. I was so jealous of her for such a long time, but looking back now . . . they were stuck together from the start.”

“Did you ever tell him?” Dante asked quietly, his grin having faded at Nico’s tone. There was something unresolved there, deep and uncomfortable, though the unseen wound didn’t seem to be festering with rage.

“No,” Nico answered, picking at his nails. “I was too scared of him finding out, too ashamed. I never wanted him to know.” Nico swallowed and cleared his throat, fidgeting and clearly eager to change the focus of the conversation. “What about you? Tell me about your first crush.”

Dante had thought about how he would answer this for a long time; it was an inevitable question, from a friend or a prospective boyfriend – who was your first? – and it was the one question Dante really didn’t want to answer. Still, Nico had told him his side – it was only fair if he reciprocated, even if he would rather have been doing anything but.

“He wasn’t worth it,” he said simply, and the small grin faded from Nico’s face. “He liked the idea of having a cute, younger boyfriend and he . . . got me to do things that I’m not proud of.”

The silence in the room was deafening. It was quiet enough that Dante could hear the floorboards creaking, and bizarrely it seemed that the lights were dimming slowly, like darkness was creeping into the room. He glanced up, and found Nico staring at the ground, his brows furrowed in what Dante was sure was anger.

“All in the past though, right?” Dante tried for levity, though it fell flat in Nico’s souring mood.

“Why does love suck?” Nico muttered mutinously.

“It doesn’t always suck,” Dante chuckled. “Sometimes Cupid’s a douchebag.”

For a moment Dante was worried Nico had whiplash, he looked over at him so fast. Then, without word, rhyme or reason, Nico suddenly burst into raucous, whole-hearted laughter. His face turned red as he curled in on himself, gasping for breath. Dante did make out an “Oh my gods, you have no idea,” in the midst of his unrelenting laughter, before Nico fell off the couch onto the carpet. The darkness in the room seemed to dissipate, and the sudden light in the room made Dante blink in surprise.

When he finally surfaced, Nico was still giggling and his face was beet red; Dante didn’t really understand why that comment was so funny, but just getting to see Nico’s calm veneer crack like this was enough to make him snicker himself. Then Nico wrapped his arms around Dante’s shoulders, clasping his hands together against his other arm.

“Oh,” Dante stammered, completely taken off-guard by the sudden affection. Nico didn’t initiate physical contact very much – usually they were small gestures, like a tap on the arm or patting his shoulder, but a full-on hug? Dante hadn’t been expecting something like that from his friend. “Are you ok?

“Yeah, I’m ok,” Nico answered, his voice muffled against Dante’s neck. “I just . . . I’m sorry. That it happened. Love makes us do really stupid things, doesn’t it? Cupid really is a dick.”

Sensing that Nico might welcome reciprocation, Dante wrapped his arms loosely around his friend’s shoulders. “You have a problem with cherubs?”

Nico snorted. “Cupid is many things, but a cherub he is not.”

That still didn’t make sense to Dante; he wondered if there was something in the translation that he was missing from English, because otherwise it seemed as though Nico was implying that he’d actually met Cupid, which was impossible. He shrugged inwardly and sighed into Nico’s collar bone.

“Are you ok?” Nico asked softly a moment later.

“I’m good, I promise,” he responded, smiling to himself. “Even better with Nico hugs.”

0o0

Things felt different between them after that. Nico felt a shift happening, like they had grown more comfortable with each other in a short amount of time. Sharing that kind of personal, intimate information signaled a change in their views of each other too; Dante had shared something deeply personal, something that he’d indicated only his parents and older siblings really understood, which indicated to him that Dante was trusting him with that information. Nico had been considering, in the days after their confessions, how much of his own past he might be able to trust Dante with. Of course, that would also mean revealing his heritage as a demigod – which was pretty much out of the question. Dante would think he was insane if he started spouting that kind of information, between the absurdity of it for mortals and the fact that he’d grown up Catholic and didn’t believe in the Greek gods.

And revealing his powers? Dante would go running in the opposite direction.

Nico had resolved when he first began talking with Dante that he would do his best to tell him the truth about as much as he could – or the closest version of the truth. He’d made this connection, the first after several years of struggling to interact and gain the respect and friendship of others, and he didn’t want to let the revelation of his parentage or abilities destroy it.

Maybe one day, when they’d been friends for a long time and Nico felt like he could trust Dante with the knowledge of who and what he was, then he would tell him. Until then, Nico would play the human version of himself.

Dante was very late for class that day. The professor began the lesson, and Nico watched the door surreptitiously, tapping his pen against the desk as he became more and more anxious. Why was Dante late? Had something happened that kept him from coming today? Usually when he was running very late, Dante texted Nico’s small brick of a cell phone to ask if he’d save a seat for him.

When Dante did finally arrive, Nico sensed that he was tense and agitated immediately. He stormed into the classroom, much to the consternation of the professor, and threw his book bag into the seat in front of Nico violently. Then he sat heavily, in the row in front of Nico, his whole body tense and stiff as he stared forward, barely even taking notes as the professor resumed his lecture. 

Nico tried to keep his focus, but his gaze kept wandering to the back of Dante’s head. He wished he knew what was happening with his friend that would make him behave this way.

When their break came, Nico rose to try and talk with Dante but the other man tore out of the room before he could get a word out, and returned at the very end of the break smelling strongly of cigarette smoke.

Objectively, Nico was aware that Dante smoked. He was also aware that a large portion of Italians were smokers, so it would actually have been more surprising if Dante didn’t smoke. Still, he’d only smoked casually while hanging out with Nico, and it was never right in his space. He usually only smelled faintly of smoke rather than reeking of it, but this time the stench was overwhelming. Nico fought down a gagging reaction to it, and leaned back in his seat to get away from the smell.

By the end of class the smell had largely dissipated, so when the professor dismissed him Nico didn’t feel as much like wrinkling his nose at the smell when he put his hand on Dante’s shoulder. “Hey-“

“Back off,” Dante hissed, jerking away from his touch; Nico pulled his hand back like he’d been burned, taking a step away from Dante as the other students around them started to collect their supplies and file out. “Did you not get the message that I don’t have the patience today?” he snapped, expression hard and unforgiving.

“I’m not a mind reader, Dante,” Nico snapped in retaliation. “I just wanted to make sure you were ok.”

“Well clearly the answer is no,” he practically growled, fumbling with his book bag as he fought to put it over his shoulder. “So leave me the fuck alone.” With that, Dante stalked out of the classroom, leaving Nico confused and dumbfounded by his bizarre behavior. He withdrew, rubbing at his arm absently before gathering his thoughts and belongings. He wasn’t going to follow Dante, that was clearly an unwise decision – like prodding a sleeping Cyclops in the eye. It was just bound to get you hurt. Nico tried to compartmentalize the whole situation, because he didn’t know to deal with Dante if he was well and truly angry with him. He tried not to think about Percy rounding on him with a sword to his throat, but it was a hard image to shake.

0o0

Nico was avoiding him.

Or rather, given the status of their social interactions, he was keeping his distance. Later in the evening, after his brothers and elder sister knocked some sense into him and talked him out of his shitty mood, Dante remembered his treatment of Nico earlier and felt even worse. He tried calling Nico, but when he didn’t answer Dante sent him a few texts instead. Nico replied a while later, but in very short responses. He allowed Dante to sit beside him in class, but did not speak to him or interact with him in any way. Nico carefully sat on the other side of his desk, rear perched on the edge of the seat to keep himself edged away from Dante.

 “Hey, Nico,” Dante said quietly during their break, desperately trying to keep his voice from breaking. “After class, can I talk to you?”

“You’re talking to me now,” Nico pointed out stiffly.

“No, I mean . . . in private.”

Nico was silent for a few moments, tapping his pen against the paper filled with meticulous notes. “Is this about yesterday?”

“Yes.”

“Does it involve an apology?” he asked, croaking a little.

“Yes.”

“Fine,” Nico sighed, shoulders deflating.

Dante bit his lip, wondering if he could really make it up to Nico after yesterday’s shittiness. He’d barely slept the last two nights – the night before last had been filled with unwelcome dreams, and he hadn’t been able to break free of the resulting mood the whole day. Last night had been worse in a different way, as he lay in bed staring at the ceiling going over all the things he’d done wrong in his life to bring him to this point. Getting involved with _him_ had been the first misstep of many, but when everything after that spiraled out of his control, Dante had been caught in a cycle of destruction before he could tear himself away. All of his relationships with his family had suffered, not to mention those with his friends. Yesterday’s behavior towards Nico had just been another in a long line of examples of how Dante had become a terrible human being, and an even worse friend in his eyes. He’d half expected Nico to shun him out of spite, but that made him feel even worse: he’d never known Nico to be spiteful or nasty just for the hell of it, so why would he automatically expect it of him?

Dante wished he could shake himself, tell himself to stop thinking that way, but what was the point to that? He’d fall right back into that line of thinking minutes later.

He shook his head, wincing when he realized the lecture had begun again and the professor was giving him a critical look. The rest of the class went by excruciatingly slow, as Dante’s attention alternated rapidly between the professor and Nico’s stoic profile. He couldn’t even see his eyes, since his face was tilted just away from him and Nico’s long black hair was obscuring the top half of his face.

By the time the class was over, Dante felt incredibly jittery. He walked with Nico, not really saying anything, back to his mother’s apartment. It felt horribly awkward, walking with Nico but not talking or interacting the way they normally did. He felt the loss of his camaraderie like a swift kick to the stomach.

Nico stayed quiet as they walked up the stairs to his apartment, and since he was not distracted by his friend’s quiet banter his mind wandered. He knew that there was an elevator in the building – it was too ritzy to not have been retrofitted with an elevator – but Nico never once used it when they were walking back together. He wondered why they never used it, since Nico lived up on the fifth floor and trudging up the stairs every day was tiring. It was just an odd thing he noticed.

His thoughts were interrupted by Nico clearing his throat, having deposited his book bag on a table, and gestured to the cleared-off couch, waiting for Dante to sit. “Sorry,” he muttered, hastily taking a seat on the right side of the couch. Nico sat down on the other side, folding his hands in his lap and glancing surreptitiously at him.

“I don’t really know how to start this,” Dante grumbled, running his fingers through his hair agitatedly.  

Nico, from his space a generous distance away, looked mildly alarmed. “What did you want to talk about?” He’d been quiet and a little distant since Dante’s blow-up at him the day before, and he hated seeing Nico so withdrawn.

“Do you remember the conversation we had last week?”

“We see each other almost every day. Could you be a little more specific?”

“About our first crushes,” Dante sighed.

“Oh. Yeah.”

“I wasn’t completely honest with you, and I want to be,” he said, taking deep, calming breaths. This was Nico – his friend, the person he confided in and who confided in him. Nico was kind and accepting; he wouldn’t reject him for his honesty – would he?

Nico shifted on the couch, turning to face him and folding his legs under him, giving Dante his space but physically reminding him that Nico was there for him. He waited patiently while Dante pulled together the courage to speak.

After a few minutes of struggling to put his thoughts to words like Mama had coached him, he heard Nico say, “You don’t have to do this now. It’s ok.”

“No, no, I want to tell you. I trust you.” Dante cleared his throat, looking down at the twitching hand gripping his knee. “The guy I liked . . . he really wasn’t a good guy. He got me to try cocaine when I was fourteen. I got hooked. He’d get me the stuff, and make me pay him with . . . sex and things like that. Sometimes I’d have these intense, totally fucked up dreams and I’d wake up craving, needing to feel the high. I . . . I had one of those dreams the other night, and I woke up craving again. So I’m sorry for acting like an asshole yesterday, it wasn’t anything you did – it was just me not knowing how to cope with that feeling, and panicking because I felt like complete shit.” He took several deep breaths after it was over, his fingers trembling under the immense stress to get the words out. “I wanted to be honest with you, that that’s what I was trying to deal with. I hate the way it makes me feel,” he added miserably. He winced inwardly as he went over everything he’d just dumped on Nico in his head; of course the second he actually started talking about it the words would start flowing like a tidal wave, overwhelming his friend.

Nico was silent for a long while. Movement in the corner of his eye made Dante start, but it was just Nico’s hand reaching over to clasp his clenched fist comfortingly. “Are you-“

“I’m clean now,” Dante answered in a rush, just relieved that Nico wasn’t running in the other direction screaming. “Mama found out and put me under house arrest when I was fifteen. My brothers found me – well. They found me and brought me home, and Mama beat the shit out of me. Most days are ok, but sometimes I can’t help the itch under my skin. It’s disgusting, I know.”

“I was going to ask if you were ok,” Nico said, squeezed his fist reassuringly. “It’s not disgusting.”

“I traded sex for drugs, Nico. ‘Disgusting’ is a pretty appropriate word for it from my perspective.”

“It’s not something you can keep punishing yourself for. You survived, and you’re dealing with it now. You got better. You’re here now, and I’m grateful that you told me, that you trust me with that information. I’m glad that you’re safe and sober.” He squeezed Dante’s hand tightly, and Dante held on like his life depended on it. “Did you really think that was how I’d respond?”

Dante shrugged. “It’s how a bunch of my friends responded at the time.”

“Well no offense, but they sound like they were kind of terrible friends.”

Dante gave him a faltering smile and sagged, leaning his head against Nico’s shoulder. He felt Nico freeze momentarily, and Dante cursed himself before he felt Nico relax in degrees, wrapping his arm around Dante’s shoulder to squeeze his arm.

“I did some pretty crappy things, too,” Nico said quietly, rubbing his hand up and down Dante’s arm tentatively. “To get his attention, mostly, but then I’d go and do something insane to help him out and he’d never acknowledge me. I’d work myself up into a fit, because everything I did just took me steps backwards from him. I betrayed his trust twice, and no matter what I did I don’t think he really ever wanted me to forget that. At the time, I wish I had had someone who just told me that I was ok. That I did my best, and that I did ok.”

“I think you’re ok,” Dante supplied, firming up his smile.

“I think you’re biased,” Nico snorted.

“I might be,” he admitted, feeling something clench uncomfortably in his chest at the thought of letting Nico go when this moment was over.

0o0

With the end of classes, Nico remained close friends with Dante. He even began going out with Dante and his small group of friends, who cautiously welcomed him into their circle with some mild interrogation. He was starting to get a fuller picture of Dante’s family and friends – they were incredibly protective of him, particularly around young men whom Nico assumed were those he might like. Nico was well aware that Dante harbored some feelings for him after a particularly awkward and stressful encounter wherein Dante asked him out on a date, and he was thankful that the other man was willing to pull back and keep their close, friendly relationship without making him feel strange about it.

Nico found that he liked Dante’s friends: they were kind, and had similar senses of humor. He’d worried that their already established camaraderie would remind him of his brief travels with the Seven – minus Percy and Annabeth, but the resemblance still held. They were a self-contained group of friends who had a long history together, and while Nico was brought in voluntarily by Dante it still felt like he was intruding on their private jokes and stories. Sara, one of Dante’s friends, made a concerted effort to include Nico when she could. When the others began teasing his friend, she would lean in and explain the story or joke, and would turn the conversation towards Nico to bring him into the fold on his own terms.

It was difficult to pinpoint the exact moment that it happened, but sometime over the course of the summer Nico began to look forward to hanging out with Dante and his friends more than previously. Occasionally he’d reschedule IM sessions with Hazel if Dante called and invited him out for the night. They’d recently discovered a small, cozy bar that had comfortable sofas set up along the walls, where friends in the neighborhood gathered for a drink and late night pizza. Nico was almost sure their discovery was thanks to Dante and Sara, who were likely the ones to pick up on his discomfort at the rowdy bar two streets over and seek out a new space to relax. Nico often found himself sitting pressed up against Dante’s side, tucked into the end of the couch between his friend and the armrest.

After the night was over, Nico would often stare at the ceiling above the chaise lounge that acted as his bed, replaying each moment in his head to try and figure out what had changed and how he was going to deal with it. He should have felt pressed in and vulnerable in such an intimate setting, wedged far too close to Dante’s body to feel safe. He didn’t like being touched, and he didn’t like touching others unnecessarily. And yet, when it was Dante, it felt ok. It felt right to a degree, even. His slowly rising level of comfort with Dante and physical affection made him feel a little uncomfortable, though. It wasn’t something he was used to at all, and the idea of allowing someone in that close made him feel simultaneously nauseous and . . . well, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to name the second emotion, because it reminded him of the awful months he dealt with  unwanted, unsolicited feelings for Percy: the persistent ache in his chest cavity, the warmth that spread throughout his body when they were close, the need to let his eyes be drawn like magnets to him in every situation.

His issues with Percy were still largely unresolved, and he knew that. Nico had chosen the easy way out years before by simply disappearing into the shadows without a word or a second glace over his shoulder. He’d left behind everyone he’d grudgingly grown to care about and the one person he’d become disillusioned with, with no plans whatsoever to return and see them again. Nico had cared for Percy – maybe he’d even loved him, he wasn’t sure – and he’d grown to hate his lack of concern or care for him. Those feelings had made him bitter, and the thought of small tendrils of feeling working their way back in towards his heart terrified him. He feared the day his emotions would make him that vulnerable to another person again.

Despite all his fears, Nico found it hard to deny that he was starting to feel _something_ for his friend. He was kind and welcoming in a way Nico really hadn’t experienced in others in a long time, and his willingness to trust Nico with deeply personal information had helped cement Nico’s trust in _him_. Nico liked that Dante could put him at ease and comfort him all in the same breath, that his sarcasm was matched evenly when they found a common subject. He liked the way Dante’s eyes lit up and his face scrunched when he laughed at something, and that he always listened intently when they were talking about something serious. He liked that Dante genuinely seemed to care about him, and when he did something wrong he acknowledged it – and tried to make sure he was going to be better.

Something in his chest clenched as he went over all of those things in his head, and Nico decided that he really needed to work up the courage to talk to Dante about his feelings. It would be a much-needed first step to moving past Percy and coming to terms with these new emotions.

0o0

Dante did try to ask Nico out once, after knowing him for several months. It was a pretty fair disaster involving long, awkward silences and stammered apologies – but they ended the night on good terms, awkwardly agreeing to just continue being friends without bringing that evening up again. Even though he smiled and agreed to Nico’s request wholeheartedly, Dante still went home with a deep frown etched on his face – not for himself, but for his friend. Nico still held on to the bitter, angry words of hateful people, and turned it on himself.

Nico wasn’t ready to move past that – so Dante decided to continue being his friend.

It could have been more awkward, he supposed. Dante took a job washing dishes in a local restaurant that summer, and graduated fairly quickly to being a server. Meanwhile, Nico made a much bigger effort to come by and visit him. He’d come by the restaurant, and after a while the hosts began to automatically seat him in Dante’s section – and when Dante was done with his shift they’d go sit in a park and relax for a little while. It was comfortable, and even if Nico wasn’t interested in dating Dante still felt something clench in his stomach that he would still make the trip out of Venice nearly every night just so they could hang out together. Summer passed quickly that way, and Dante was almost shocked when the fall semester began, plunging them back into schoolwork.

Dante still shared a class with Nico, but he really only saw him in the evenings, after all their classes were done. Still, he began to suspect that something was up with his friend in September, when their classes picked up again. Another student at the university named Sandro had begun taking an interest in Dante – meeting him ’coincidentally’ at bars, injecting himself into conversations, working his way into his social circle, and made it clear to Dante that he was interested in dating him. Throughout this process Sandro routinely ostracized Nico, probably out of lack of interest in the younger man. Things had come to a head when Sandro not-so-politely asked Nico to leave so he could have a moment to talk with Dante; Nico had left, his head down, and Sandro had promptly asked Dante out on a date.

The problem was that after that event, Nico began avoiding Dante like the plague. When he did come into contact with Dante, Nico’s tone was nasty and unwelcoming, his dismissal and pain clear. Frustrated by these events, Dante had done the one thing he could think of: he pulled his sister Caterina aside and asked her what to do.

Caterina was his elder by two years, and she was easily the smartest of all his brothers and sisters – Rina was the one who tutored him after he got himself clean so he could keep up and graduate on time. Now, after her own graduation, she was working as a tour guide and travel agent just outside of Venice. She only reached his collarbone (standing on the tips of her toes) but like Mama, Dante didn’t mess with her - Rina had a mean left hook and vocabulary that would make their grandfather lightheaded. She was short and curvy, with long deep auburn hair and their father’s grey eyes, which set her apart from her siblings. Everyone else got their mother’s eyes.

“He’s jealous,” she said simply, plaiting an intricate braid into her long hair. “It seems pretty obvious to me.”

“Nico doesn’t think of me that way,” Dante huffed, pouting and crossing his arms over his chest. “I asked him out a couple of months ago, and he turned me down. It was so awkward, Rina,” he uttered miserably.

“Some guy tried to ask you out – and it seems like he was trying to get rid of Nico before that – and now he’s behaving like you’ve wronged him. He’s jealous, sweetie. I bet you fifty euro he likes you. He might not have known how much he liked you until someone tried to take you away. You really should go talk to him.”

“He’ll just deny it. What’s the point?”

“Now you’re just putting up roadblocks. Go talk to him. You’re going to owe me fifty euro.”

“I don’t have fifty euro,” Dante muttered as he stalked out of her bedroom, feeling vaguely mutinous. He loved Rina, but only she would see right through the problem.

Getting up the courage to say something and actually speaking out were two completely different things, of course. Nico could really build up a wall when he wanted to, which could make any sort of discussion almost impossible. After several increasingly frustrating misfires, Dante finally cornered him in a café. Nico looked ready to flee, but Dante stood in his path, sitting across from him and dumping his book bag under their table.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Dante blurted, frowning sourly at him. “I thought we were friends.”

“I’m not avoiding you, I’ve just been busy,” Nico snapped, angrily tearing a textbook open to a random page.

“Bullshit.”

Nico seethed quietly across from him. “Ok. Fine. I wanted to give you space.”

Dante threw his hands up in confusion. “Why?”

“Sandro really seemed to like you. He seemed nice,” Nico said unconvincingly, shrugging.

“Really? Because he seemed like kind of a jerk to me.”

“That’s an interesting way to talk about the guy you’re dating.”

Dante bristled at that. “No, Nico, we aren’t dating. I turned him down. You’d know that if you hadn’t ostracized me for the last two weeks. I didn’t like him – his attitude, or how he treated people I cared about.”

“That so?” Nico snorted, unimpressed.

“It is. He was kind of jackass, and I’ve dated one too many of those if you recall. Plus, he wasn’t really my type. I like someone else.”

Nico’s expression soured, reminding Dante of a night when he’d taken a swig of far-too-strong, sour limoncello. “Thanks for the update, Dante, I appreciate-“

“Will you stop being an idiot?” Dante snapped. “I like you!” he exclaimed, louder than he’d originally intended. One of the bartenders was giving them a funny look, while the older gentlemen behind Nico had glanced behind to their table to see what was going on. Dante felt himself flush under their scrutiny, carefully avoiding their gazes by focusing on Nico.

Nico stared at him like he’d insulted his mother. “That’s not funny.”

“You think I’m really kidding with you? Why would I joke about something like that?”

“Because you’re lying,” Nico said, his voice breaking. “You don’t-you don’t like me, you’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“Do you remember the first day we met? At the bar? Why would I have turned and tried to talk to you – and I made a fool out of myself if you remember – if I wasn’t attracted to you?”

“You wanted a light,” Nico muttered grudgingly.

“No, I wanted to say something to you, to break the ice,” Dante hissed. “I wanted to get your attention. You think I’m screwing around here? I remember clear as day hearing you speak and thinking ‘Oh, that’s an American accent,’ and then I looked to my left and my thought process became ‘Oh no, he’s gorgeous.’”

Nico looked downright murderous. His mood seemed to affect the whole café, as the lights flickered and it seemed as though the whole place grew darker in a matter of seconds. Dante shrugged it off as a trick of the light and his own developing panic. “You’re screwing with me now.”

“Why is that so hard to believe?” Dante hissed, starting to feel frustrated. He knew that Nico’s self esteem was pretty darn low, but this was crazy. “I’m not lying, Nico. I’d love to be able to date you, and barring that I want to be your friend. But please, if you have any feelings for me, tell me so I can stop walking on eggshells around you and ask you out.”

Nico’s face paled as he was suddenly put on the spot. A small part of Dante felt a rush of hope, because Nico wouldn’t be getting so stressed if he didn’t have feelings for him – he would have simply said ‘no,’ and they would have moved on. But his reaction spoke of unmitigated anxiety; expressing his feelings had never been something Nico was comfortable with, he’d said nearly as much. Still, Nico looked like he was going to start hyperventilating any minute, and that wasn’t the response or reaction Dante wanted to cause in his friend.

“Easy – breathe for me, Nico. Forget I said anything.”

“I do,” the other man choked, clapping his hand over his mouth in surprise.

“You do . . . what?” Dante asked, now genuinely confused and worried about where this might lead.

“Have feelings for you,” Nico whispered, his voice strained and vaguely terrified. “And you . . . you like me too.” Then he laughed weakly, an oddly harsh sound that startled Dante slightly; Nico really didn’t believe that he would have feelings for him at all, did he?

“I do,” he confirmed, reeling at the suddenness of their confessions. This was not actually how he expected his afternoon to go.

“Ok,” Nico muttered. “So what happens now?”

“We take things one step at a time,” Dante said, the giddy feeling in his chest returning when Nico confirmed that he was interested in this continuing. “Do you want to date me?”

“Isn’t that what two people do when they like each other?” Nico shot back, raising an eyebrow.

“Most of the time,” Dante mused. “Or we could dance around it like idiots and pine for each other in the most pathetic ways possible – but I think we’re a little beyond that, right?”

Nico smacked him with a throw pillow in response. He seemed to be valiantly trying to keep a straight face, his mouth set in a stern line though the edges of his mouth ticked upwards in a barely contained grin.

“No, but really. You, me, date?” Dante offered him a hopeful smile, doing a little awkward shifting back and forth in his seat in what he hoped was an encouragingly enthusiastic manner.

“Stop that, you’re reminding me of a dog I used to have,” he said through a snicker. “But yes. I think we could do that.”

0o0

For a short while, Nico wasn’t really sure what the difference was between having Dante as a friend and actually _dating_ him. They still saw each other nearly every day, whether they were in class or hanging out afterwards at Nico’s apartment or with Dante’s friends at the bar. If anything, they seemed to be hanging out in what had become _their_ group of friends – as opposed to just Dante’s – more often. The biggest difference, Nico decided, was that Dante touched him casually a lot more than before.

They’d already achieved a level of comfort with each other that allowed Dante into Nico’s personal space with far less resistance than he’d grant others. Nico was much more accepting of Dante’s light, comforting touches to his arms and shoulders, so that wasn’t the problem. Now that they were dating – with whatever fine print that entailed – Dante’s touch shifted down to his hands. They would be walking somewhere, arms swinging by their sides (Nico had at first kept his hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat or jeans, but later began letting them relax), and Dante would lace their fingers together gently.

The first time it happened, Nico didn’t quite know what to make of it. He had gotten used to such casual contact, but the act of lacing their fingers together felt like something much more significant. It something _couples_ did, that _people in love_ did walking through the streets. Every once in a while, as Dante slid his palm into Nico’s, he would feel a little silly about the rushing sensation on his ears and the way his heart rate picked up at the first sensation.

After the first few times though, Nico embraced the small sign of affection. If Dante didn’t make the first move to intertwine their fingers, Nico would hold out his hand, fingers splayed, and he would wait for Dante to make the second move – something he never failed to do.

0o0

Dante was actually starting to wonder when this streak of luck was going to run dry. Confronting Nico and actually asking him out on a date had been frustratingly nerve-wracking enough that he hadn’t really thought about what it would actually be like to _date_ him.

Nico was clearly still rather unsure about the developments in their relationship, and Dante hoped he would be able to do everything in his power to pull him past that apprehension. As it was, they fell back into the comfortable routine they’d established, though now Dante made a point to touch Nico more. They were still brand new, and the last thing he wanted was to scare the other man off by overwhelming him with physical affection. Instead, he aimed to ease him into things so he could slowly figure out what was ok and what Nico really preferred.

The best was holding Nico’s hand, though – it always surprised him when Dante slipped his fingers into his boyfriend’s palm and gently squeezed, his thumb gliding over his knuckles.

The first time, Nico had tugged his hand away in surprise. Dante had made a small noise of distress before Nico realized that the aim hadn’t been to hurt – it had simply been an expression of affection. That realization had shocked him, and it was only after he figured that out that Nico reached back and took Dante’s hand tentatively.

That had been a good day.

The first time they kissed, the situation took them both completely by surprise. It was about four days after they began dating, and they went to Nico’s apartment as they usually did after classes to study and write papers. Nico resolutely refused to get a laptop for some reason, and sometimes sat at his typewriter picking out letters for hours at a time. That day they were studying for an upcoming exam, sprawled out on the floor: Dante was lying on his stomach as he read, while Nico was laid out on his back holding the book in the air over his face.

Then Nico exhaled a long, frustrated sigh and dropped the open book onto his face with a groan. His arms flopped to the ground, smacking Dante’s arm in the process.

“That’s not going to make it any easier,” Dante snorted in amusement.

Nico didn’t seem to care. “Osmosis, Dante. Osmosis is the key,” he said, his voice muffled by the pages.

As he spoke he raised an arm to point at the ceiling, attempting to emphasize the magnitude of his words, but Dante caught his wrist and reached over to pull the book off his face; this meant he was leaning over Nico just enough that he had the most perfect view of his boyfriend’s smirking mouth. Dante had opened his mouth for a snarky reply, but suddenly felt his mental capacity for words – what were those things again? – fly out the window. He just peered down at Nico’s soft smile and his contented expression, looking up at Dante with a curious gaze. Then, Dante felt himself leaning in closer as if drawn to Nico by an industrial-strength magnet.

He saw Nico’s eyes widen, and paused with barely a few inches between them. “Is it ok? If I kiss you?” he asked, voice rough and husky.

Nico’s chin tilted up, then down in a slow nod; when Dante moved to close the distance between them Nico tilted his face hesitantly to meet his, and just like that Dante pressed a light, chaste kiss to his boyfriend’s lips. He laid his hand on Nico’s neck, rubbing his thumb in comforting motions along his throat and jaw as he continued, reveling in the softness of Nico’s lips and the taste of the chocolate almond cookies sitting between them in his mouth. Dante could feel Nico’s soft but somewhat frantic exhalations through his nose against his skin, making him question whether this really was ok; he pulled away slightly, and in the minute space Nico spoke.

“I’m sorry I suck at this,” he whispered, licking his lips. “Never been kissed, you know.”

“Seriously?” Dante nearly shouted, making Nico wince. “You have never been kissed before?”

“You’re ruining it,” Nico muttered, but the tone was teasing.

“We are so making up for it right the hell now,” Dante murmured in a rush, leaning down to kiss Nico again – still soft and slow and inviting, gently coaxing Nico to participate in the kiss. When Nico started to kiss him back Dante’s palm shifted lower, until it laid flat on Nico’s chest, just above his heart. He felt his boyfriend relax completely into the touch, the tension and worry and fear draining from his body inch by inch, until he was kissing Dante back softly and pressing his palm just to the side of his boyfriend’s throat.

And it was great – it was wonderful, even, just feeling Nico’s lips against his, relishing his warmth and the fact that Nico was even allowing him to do this – that he wanted him to keep kissing him.

“Pretty good for a first kiss,” Dante mumbled, nuzzling Nico’s face.

“Did I do alright?”

“Did you – huh? That wasn’t a performance, you know. It’s all about what feels right to you – and if it feels good, then it’s a good kiss.”

“Then it was a good kiss,” Nico muttered through a secretive grin, his fingers squeezing Dante’s wrist before shifting onto his back again, playfully smacking Dante’s hands away when he tried to sneak in for another kiss.

0o0

Even though they were dating and the prospect of kissing was opening up, touching was still a tricky subject on some days and in certain situations. Nico definitely allowed Dante to touch him a heck of a lot more than he did anyone else; he started out small when they got to be closer friends, just using small, gentle touches that proved to be more comforting than anything else. They were usually pretty brief though, apparently enough to bring a little smile to Nico’s face – they were so rare even now, Dante took every chance he could get to bring that smile to his face. Anything more than kissing was still uncharted territory, but Dante felt content to take his time so they could learn more and more about each other.

Time seemed to move quicker now that they were on the same page and Dante’s life seemed to be picking up the pace as well. He and Nico dated through fall and into winter, taking their relationship at a much slower pace than most people were probably used to. Dante didn’t really feel the need to push things as fast as the rest of his life was going; he felt like he and Nico were really doing well together – at least, Nico seemed the happiest he’d been since Dante met him that chilly morning in the café.

With graduation coming in just a few months, Dante had gotten a job working as a waiter at a local trattoria. He wasn’t really sure how he ended up being able to balance school, work, and Nico at the same time, but it all became part of a very intricate and well-planned routine. Given that Nico had his own schoolwork to focus on and that he was starting to finish up cleaning his grandmother’s penthouse, they managed to work out time to be together. The money Dante earned from his job came in handy around November, when he decided to move out on his own, away from his family for the first time. He found a small place in an old building in an even older neighborhood, where the landlord was willing to give him a discount because he was a student. Dante had refused Nico’s financial help, claiming that he wanted this to be his and his alone. It was a fourth floor apartment with a window overlooking the courtyard, a nice-sized bedroom and an even bigger living area. The only downside was the horribly small kitchen, which he lamented at length about to Nico when he came over to visit for the first time.

Still, it was a place of his own – away from the prying eyes of his parents, siblings, and grandparents. Here he could hang out with Nico and their friends without feeling like his family was breathing down his neck. Dante could deal with a smaller kitchen if it meant having that kind of freedom.

0o0

Nico had been so proud of Dante’s accomplishment; for a student working the kinds of hours Dante was, it was almost unheard of that he would be able to turn around and afford even a small apartment. He suspected that, even though Dante had refused Nico’s monetary help, Dante’s grandparents had made a small donation to this cause. The last time he’d visited their home Dante’s grandfather had made veiled comments about him taking up too much space – all in jest, with a wink in Nico’s direction – and that they were looking forward to the day when Dante could settle down in his own place.

Even so, he was excited to see what Dante would do with the space. He only grudgingly accepted the state of the kitchen, which left Nico with a stitch in his side as he held back chuckles at Dante’s annoyance, but he knew that Dante would make the most of it.

On days when Dante wasn’t working, Nico would go to his new apartment after his classes were over. If Dante had work, depending on his hours, Nico would traipse over to his place to talk and kiss before heading back to his apartment.

It was very strange; Nico had started to realize that he cared less and less about his mother’s apartment now that Dante was becoming such a huge part of his life. When he’d first walked in to the dusty, derelict penthouse, Nico had wanted to cry. His chest felt like it had been ripped apart and stamped on, knowing that his mother had lived here comfortably before leaving Italy in the 1930s. There was even evidence that one of the bedrooms had been his and Bianca’s nursery.

It was hard enough going through his mother’s things; he didn’t remember her much at all, enough to recognize her in an apparition, but not enough to remember her voice or thoughts. He’d grown up with Bianca, though; he knew everything about her, down to her hopes and dreams for their futures. Her leaving him behind to become a Huntress did not mean she stopped being his sister. Walking into that room was like a kick to the solar plexus every time – even worse than being faced with Percy Jackson’s rage, accusing him of betrayal, which was saying something. Needless to say, it took him a lot longer to deal with that room. Nico thought about asking Dante to help him – because he totally would, he knew that – but he didn’t want to risk coming across anything with his name on it, which would totally shatter his cover story and confuse the hell out of his boyfriend.

The word kind of made him feel a little strange inside. In the years since he’d figured out what the swooping, clenching sensations in his chest meant when he looked at Percy, Nico had been completely positive that he would never use that word to describe himself or another person he was close to. It just wasn’t something he thought would be in his cards.

As he and Dante became closer, Nico contemplated telling him again.

In the end, he kept his mouth shut once more.

0o0

They had a routine – a set of actions and activities they had settled on in the last few weeks, one that rarely ever varied. Nico would come by after his classes or after Dante was home from work; they would have dinner or grab gelato at the place around the corner, pop in a movie or a mindless video game, then curl up around each other and kiss until Nico reluctantly (Dante sometimes thought he was kidding himself, but he’d watched Nico’s expression one night and yeah, pulling himself off of the couch had been difficult for him) disentangled himself and left.

Sometimes Nico crashed on his couch after an evening of watching movies or playing games, but it didn’t happen often. They’d been dating for several months, but never slept together. It wasn’t such a big deal for him or Nico it seemed - in fact, he rather preferred it. Much as he was attracted to Nico and enjoyed his company and touch, he wasn’t completely sure Nico was ready to trust him with that level of intimacy.

That didn’t really change how Dante reacted when Nico brought up the possibility for the first time.

"Can I stay with you tonight?" Nico asked, swallowing thickly as he held Dante's gaze steadily.

"Uh. Sure," Dante muttered, his throat suddenly dry. He couldn’t pinpoint the source of his sudden nervousness when Nico had stayed over numerous times before; it had never been a problem, because he always stayed on the couch. "You want me to set up the couch?"

 

Nico swallowed thickly, paling somewhat. "The couch isn't exactly what I had in mind," he answered after a pause.

"You want the bed, then?" Dante clarified, feeling a little put out that Nico would expect him to vacate his bed - in his own apartment nonetheless- so that Nico could have a more comfortable place to sleep. He was totally willing to do that for his boyfriend, but he couldn't help but feel a little perturbed. "I can take the couch."

 

"No, no I'm not kicking you out of your bed, I don't want that-"

 

"Then where would-"

"I want to sleep in your bed," Nico said loudly, and Dante fell silent as the grave. In the quiet that followed, only their shared breathing could be heard. "With you." The words hung in the air and rung in his ears and just the suggestion made his heart start to race like a jackrabbit.

"Are you asking me for sex?" he asked bluntly, concerned and a little dumbfounded by that turn of events.

 

Nico blushed a deep crimson from his cheeks all the way down his neck in a matter of seconds. "Oh my gods, no! Not yet, no, that’s not what I meant!” he exclaimed, waving his arms in panic.

 

Dante let out a nervous burst of laughter. "Thank God, because I am woefully unprepared for sex."

 

Nico gave his own nervous laugh, still flushed and looking incredibly embarrassed. "What does that even mean?" he muttered, mostly to himself. He was flushed a deep red, all the way to the tips of his ears and down splotchy areas of his neck – and Dante thought it was rather cute.

 

"No lubricant, no condoms, I don't have any of it," Dante giggled at the absurdity of the conversation. "You're over here so often I didn't want you to open up a drawer and find that stuff, and think that I was just working you up to sex or something dumb like that, because it's not like that at all, so I just never bought more when I moved out. My brothers have probably already found my stash, so it's not like I can go home and just ask for my condoms back," Dante giggled nervously again, wondering what on earth was wrong with him. "And, uh. I don't think I'm quite ready yet either."

 

"Yeah?"

 

"Yeah, I mean...we're still getting to know each other. Sex is a really intimate thing - it's weird, and it can be uncomfortable and awkward but with the right person it's amazing, and I want to experience that with you . . . if and when you want to. I’d like us to be more comfortable with each other, and I don’t think we’re really there yet."

 

"Thank you," Nico murmured, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "You still ok with me, you know . . . Sleeping in your bed?"

 

"How do you feel about cuddling?" he asked, though he was fairly sure he already knew the answer.

 

"I'm working on it."

 

"Then you are totally welcome to share my bed as long as you don’t elbow me in the stomach if I do something wrong."

“I think we’ll be ok?” Nico said, though he sounded unsure. “I trust you, you know.”

Dante blinked; this was big, a fairly important discussion that they had been having for a little bit now. Nico had been rather adverse to touch at first, shying away from him and others when they got too close when they first met. Dante could remember vividly the day Nico explained that unsolicited touch from strangers made him anxious and fearful – the reason he’d been avoiding going to Dante’s house, because he constantly felt surrounded and under siege. In the last few months though, Nico had slowly warmed up to his touch. They held hands, kissed, and when they sat together for a movie or a game Dante could practically let his hand roam freely over his arms and shoulders. He never took greater advantage than that, not wanting to betray Nico’s trust in him for the sake of his own curiosity and desire.

“You look like I just gave you the keys of Olympus or something,” Nico muttered, his cheeks coloring again.

Dante snorted; leave it to Nico to make Mythomagic references in the midst of a somewhat serious discussion.

Dante offered him a pair of pajama pants and shortly thereafter they climbed into bed, burrowing under the blankets and spending some of the time kissing languidly and unhurriedly. Then Nico pulled away – again reluctantly, Dante noticed – and curled up on the other side of the bed. Despite his hyperawareness of Nico’s presence in his bed Dante soon fell asleep.

He woke a few hours later though, mentally pushing through the fog of sleep to acknowledge the solid warmth pressed close to his side, and the light, gentle touches of nervous fingers trailing over his face. Dante didn’t even open his eyes; his brain wouldn’t let him, as if he subconsciously understood that this was different, this was harder for Nico to deal with than it was for him. Nico didn’t like people touching him – but Dante was an exception, and he was someone Nico actively wanted to touch.

Dante continued to feign sleep, enjoying the sensation of Nico’s breathing against his skin as he continued, uninterrupted, his mapping of Dante’s face. He was following the curvature and structure of his skull, Dante realized, tracing around his eye sockets, along his jaw, and even the small indentations on his temples. Nico traced his fingers along the curved bow of Dante’s lips too, and across his eyebrows.

Unable to hold himself back any longer, Dante peeked one eye open, finding Nico too preoccupied with the muscles in his throat to notice. “Counting pores?” he muttered sleepily.

Nico yelped loudly in his ear, scrambling backwards in surprise until he toppled off the bed in a heap, taking at least one of the blankets with him.

Chuckling to himself, Dante leaned over the side of the bed and smirked down at the surprised boy on the floor. “You alright down there?”

Nico looked positively murderous. “You jerk! Don’t surprise me like that!”

“You were the one feeling up my face while I was sleeping, weirdo. Come back here,” he whined, reaching out and pulling Nico back up onto the bed beside him.

Nico allowed Dante to pull him back up but remained on the other side of the bed, with a good foot between them, pouting in embarrassment after Dante caught him in the act. Figuring that what he needed was space, Dante curled up and fell asleep looking at the tense line of Nico’s shoulders. When he woke up a few hours later, Nico had rolled over and was curled up at his side, leeching warmth from his body and sleeping peacefully. This time, Dante let him continue to sleep; it felt counterproductive to prod him awake when this was the most relaxed Dante had ever seen him. Unbidden, thoughts of future mornings spent cuddling like this came to mind.

That actually turned out to be a watershed moment for them, which Dante had absolutely not been expecting. For the week following his overnight stay, Nico seemed lost in thought whenever they got together – enough that Dante started to worry if it had been too much too fast for them; however the following weekend Nico arrived at his apartment looking vaguely pale and slightly nauseous, asking if it would be ok if he stayed over more often.

And he did – enough that fairly quickly after Dante simply asked Nico if he would rather move in than keep shifting back and forth nearly every day.

That had been one bitterly cold morning, which found Dante curled up behind Nico, his chest to the other man’s back and his face tucked in to the nape of his neck, arm draped over Nico’s side beneath a pile of warm blankets. Nico was grumbling off and on about needing to get up and stop back at his apartment before classes, and Dante decided that it was ridiculous that he spent so much time there, but didn’t keep any of his things at Dante’s apartment.

The moment after he spoke was silent as Nico turned the idea over in his head. It was logical, Dante reasoned mentally. It was a totally logical and reasonable thing to suggest, given the time they spent together and the direction they were going.

“You want me to?” Nico asked finally, shifting to look at Dante from over his shoulder.

“Well. Yeah,” he answered, rubbing his thumb over the delicate bones in Nico’s wrist. “You spend more time here than you do at your grandmother’s place already, so . . . why not?”

“Famous last words,” Nico murmured, the corner of his mouth quirking a little.

Dante tugged him in a little closer, nuzzling the hair that had pulled away from the ponytail Nico always kept his hair in at night. “I’d really like it if you moved in – but if you don’t want to, you should at least keep some of your things here so you don’t have to go running back and forth when we oversleep.”

Nico hummed appreciatively, a sign that he was willing to listen and consider the idea. “I’ll think about it,” he decided diplomatically a few minutes later as he disentangled himself from the combined warmth of boyfriend, bed and sheets he was forced to leave behind. A few hours later, Dante received a text on his way out to work, which he couldn’t help but grin at when he read it.

<Nico: is the offer still open?>

Moving Nico into his apartment wasn’t actually that hard. His boyfriend didn’t have many personal possessions – some clothes, books, a typewriter, and a few odds and ends that all fit inside a shoebox. They’d really only made a single trip to bring over the things Nico needed and wanted, and it had been even easier to find places for all of those things. Dante’s salvaged bookshelves – rather bare before – were stuffed with Nico’s books, a drawer and part of the closet were cleared for his clothes, and the typewriter found a home on the table in the living room. Space had already been made for his things in the bathroom, and what little food he’d kept in his mother’s apartment supplemented Dante’s in the refrigerator. When they were finally done, Dante looked around the apartment and felt almost underwhelmed. It had been such a worrisome decision, but in the end the actual act of moving Nico in was almost underwhelming.

Once he finally came to terms with the fact that he was now _living_ with his _boyfriend_ , Dante felt himself panic a little. He hadn’t even told his parents what he was planning, it had happened so quickly. When Nico went back to settle some things with the landlord at his grandmother’s penthouse, Dante finally called his mother.

0o0

“You moved in with him?” Hazel asked, rather incredulously; it was midmorning at Camp Jupiter, and Hazel was dressed in her armor already. He’d assumed it was for training and drills, but she hadn’t given him much of an answer for that. “That’s good! Not what I was expecting, but good. I’m happy for you.”

“And I’m kind of freaking out,” Nico flailed at her. “What if we decide we’re too annoying to live with each other? What if we can’t make it work?”

“Then you move out, back to your mother’s place. You’re keeping it, right?”

“Yeah. There’s too much here for me to deal with just yet.”

“Then you take one day at a time. Don’t rush and get yourselves hurt. I think you’ll be good for each other, you know. He makes you happy – even when you don’t want to admit it, I can tell,” she teased, grinning privately.

“How is camp?” he asked after a moment of silence. Sometimes he felt incredibly awkward talking to Hazel over Iris Messages, because he liked talking to her in person much more.

“It’s good. Very busy right now. We’re having a tournament,” she said vaguely.

“Oh really? It’s a little early for the festival.”

“It’s a joint one with Camp Half-Blood,” Hazel amended.

“Oh,” Nico said awkwardly. “Uh. How is everyone?”

Hazel tilted her head and bit her lip, looking at him sadly. “You should come visit. They’re all here. They keep asking me about you.”

“Please don’t tell them anything.”

“You know I won’t. But – Nico, Jason and Piper got engaged. And – were you aware that Annabeth-“

“I really don’t want to know,” Nico hissed.

“-was pregnant?” Hazel continued, talking right through him. “She had the baby a few months ago. You should see him, he’s-“

“I have to go.”

“Nico, wait,” she pleaded, and Nico felt a strange, sickening sort of satisfaction that Hazel looked cowed and ashamed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned . . .” she trailed off, not saying his name, much to Nico’s relief. “I just want you to know that they were really trying to find you when they got married.” She took another deep breath and pushed on, “But I’m happy for you. You look better – you seem more relaxed, and a lot healthier. I’m glad you’re there with Dante now. How have you been sleeping?”

Nico grimaced; he’d been lucky so far in that he hadn’t once gotten caught up in a nightmare while at Dante’s apartment. They’d been coming less frequently than they had following his horrifically traumatizing trip through Tartarus, and Nico attributed that to time and a blend of chamomile and lavender tea that practically knocked him out every night without any chance of nightmares surfacing. The last thing he wanted was to wake up screaming with Dante in such close proximity to danger – Nico had no idea how he would respond to that kind of stress in his sleep in the mortal world.

Truth be told, he was still very nervous about the change in their sleeping arrangements. Not that he didn’t trust Dante – it was the exact opposite, in fact – but Nico didn’t know how to trust himself. He wanted to be able to move on and take this next step, and he guessed that the first step in doing that was to just go out on a limb. He did need to talk with Dante about the possibilities, though, because Nico didn’t want his boyfriend getting hurt if something in his head went wrong in the middle of the night.

“Better,” he said, nodding in affirmation and giving her a hopeful smile. “I promise I’ll talk to him.”

That particular conversation with Dante actually went fairly well, given the topic of discussion and the emotions and feelings that went along with the explanation that were dredged up for Nico. He lied, obviously – because he couldn’t just tell Dante about Tartarus or being trapped, slowly suffocating in the dark inside a bronze jar – and instead came up with a story about having been trapped in a trunk while at camp, waiting and hoping someone would find him while other campers forgot about him. Nico felt awful for lying, but . . . he just wasn’t ready to unload the whole story onto Dante. He explained what he might be dreaming about, and what to do if Dante woke to him in distress; Nico also apologized profusely in advance, while Dante waved off his apologies and listened intently as Nico continued his explanations. For this Nico was thankful; he knew Dante had vivid, wrecked dreams on occasion that reminded him of his teen years spent being around a less-than-savory boyfriend, so Nico figured that he would understand his worries.

When he was done, Dante was combing his fingers through Nico’s hair, gently enough that he hadn’t even noticed when it started. Nico felt himself lean into the touch slightly, welcoming the silent comfort he offered. “If I wake up and can tell you’re having a bad night, I’ll wake you up,” Dante promised.

The black lines made Nico curious; he'd seen glimpses of them over the summer, hidden under Dante's shirts but teased when said shirts rode up slightly. He could never quite tell what exactly they were, because there didn't appear to be any discernible pattern to follow. It wasn't until they'd begun dating that Nico even felt comfortable enough to ask. When he did, Dante blinked, frowning ever so slightly, which sent Nico into a slight panic. He backtracked, telling him that he didn't need to say anything, before Dante stopped him mid-protest and gave him a reassuring smile. 

 

Dante stood up then and lifted his shirt to expose his hip and part of his side. There, scrawled across the top of his hip was a series of numbers, followed by a line from scripture about living in the shelter of one’s family tattooed in delicate script. Mesmerized at first, Nico reached out and traced the tips of his fingers over the thin black lines. "What does it mean?" He asked quietly, reluctantly drawing his hand back.

 

Dante let the shirt fall back into place and sat heavily beside Nico on the couch. “My brothers and I each got these after I got clean. We wanted something to remind us of our family and how important it is for us.”

“The date’s-“

“When my brothers found me and dragged me home after beating the crap out of my so-called boyfriend,” Dante cut him off gently. “We snuck out and got them after I turned sixteen.”

“You snuck out?” Nico repeated, his face scrunched up in confusion.

“You really think Mama would let the three of us get tattoos like this?” Dante snickered. “She would pitch a fit if she saw them.”

Nico made a face as he imagined Dante’s mother raging at her sons, then filed that image away with the mental note to never ever mention it to her. “You’re right, I’m totally sure she would.”

“Do you have any tattoos?” Dante asked, his gaze flicking over the clothed parts of Nico’s body.

Nico flushed under the intense scrutiny. “No, no tattoos here. I’ve thought about it, but . . . never really got around to it.”

“What would you get?” Dante asked after a moment, prodding gently. “If you could get anything.”

Nico shrugged. He’d been considering getting something for Bianca for a few years, ever since he began talking with a young man on his way through the E-Z Death line who had a partial sleeve of orchids and calla lilies to commemorate his wife and daughter. It had seemed like a nice tribute, but he wasn’t sure that flowers would be the right thing to use. “Not sure yet,” he finally admitted. “But I’ll let you know if I decide.”

0o0

Sunday morning, Nico woke to the most amazing smell; he wasn’t even sure what it registered as, but it reminded him of walking by a pastry shop early in the morning, when bakers were first pulling _cornetti_ and other delicious things out of the oven. He smiled to himself, even as he reached over and found the sheets on Dante’s side of the bed cool to the touch. Dante must have snuck out early and grabbed some pastries from the bakery down the block; he was proactive like that, and Nico had started noticing that Dante was bringing more food from the restaurant home – not only that, but when he was home Dante cooked. He made a huge amount of food whenever he got in the kitchen, even though it was just the two of them. Then again, Nico would never really complain about that; Dante’s food was beyond delicious, and he often found himself eating much more than his body was accustomed to. He remembered one night in particular where, after Dante had spent a day cooking with his Nonna and returned to their apartment with a huge container of hand-rolled tortellini, he spent hours mindlessly eating piece after piece while he read his political theory textbook. Dante had feigned outrage the next morning, on finding all but ten of the tortellini gone while Nico lay prone on the couch, groaning as his stomach tried to digest the pasta.

When he went out into the kitchen however, he did not find any nutella or cream-filled _cornetti_ ; instead he found Dante singing under his breath, clad only in the pair of pajama pants he’d worn to bed, while he poured a sweet-smelling batter onto a round, raised pan. The batter hissed gently, cooking quickly, and shortly after Dante slipped a spatula under the cooking batter, then flipped it over.

Nico stared, eyes wide as the smell of _fresh crepes_ crept into his nose and made his mouth water. Gods, what had he gotten himself into?

He wanted to ask that, but instead what made its way out of his mouth was, “How are you even real?”

Dante looked over his shoulder and gave him a quick, blinding smile while Nico continued to balk. “What? Never seen a guy make crepes before?”

“You’re not real. This is ridiculous.”

Dante shook his head, chuckling to himself. “If you start doubting my existence I won’t give you one,” he teased.

Nico didn’t respond, but crept closer so he could peek around Dante’s shoulder to watch the crepes cook.

“Do you want nutella, cream, or fruit?” Dante asked lightly, unconcerned with Nico’s crisis of faith in reality.

“Nutella and strawberries,” Nico answered without thinking. Then, “I’m very suspicious.”

“Of my skills or my strawberries?” Dante snickered, slathering one crepe with an obscene amount of the chocolate hazelnut spread and a generous handful of sliced strawberries before wrapping it up.

“All of it.”

“Italians show affection through food,” Dante started to explain.

“So I’m eating your affection?”

“Well when you say it like that . . .”

Nico put the plate aside instantly, leaning in to kiss Dante’s cheek. “Thank you.”

Nico wasn’t stupid in any sense of the word, and had noticed that he was putting on some weight here and there. Hazel often commented that he looked a lot healthier now, which was probably truer than he wanted to admit. His adolescence hadn’t been the healthiest at all, between grieving, living on his own after running away, and being forced to subsist on minimal amounts of food during and after his imprisonment in Tartarus. The Underworld had been nearly as bad, given that he couldn’t really eat anything and had to survive on things his father’s messengers brought for him. Once he settled in Venice, money to purchase food had become a complete nonissue. The problem instead was that Nico often felt too distracted to even remember to buy food. His fridge often remained mostly empty aside from a few staples.

Once he became friends with Dante, that all started to change. He would be over his house to eat food his Mama had spent all afternoon preparing, or Dante would come over and cook a meal for him. Now that he was living with the other man, food was constantly available, delicious, and hard to reisist or forget about. His jeans didn’t fit so loosely anymore, which was a fairly strange thing to experience.

0o0

Dante quickly noticed, after he and Nico began dating, that Nico was very careful not to take his shirt off, even when he was almost certain Dante wasn’t in the vicinity - even if his apartment heater went on full blast, or if he was coming out of the shower. Dante had never been shy like that around his boyfriend, and he’d hoped that since they began living together that Nico might relax a little, like he’d relaxed with touching. His resistance made him wonder here and there if there was some underlying reason why he didn’t want to be shirtless, or if Dante’s lack of modesty bothered him.

His curiosity really piqued when they were kissing, though; the tension that seemed almost omnipresent in Nico’s body had dissipated, leaving him pressed close and flexible as Dante shifted his hands, tugging the back of Nico’s shirt up slightly as he sought the warm skin hidden beneath it. Instantly, the tension was back in full force and the kiss stalled; Dante dropped his hands with a small sigh, and Nico retreated.

He understood – really, he did – that something had happened to Nico that made him incredibly wary of physical contact, that twisted his heart to expect hatred and disgust at every corner. Dante understood that perfectly, the deep and consuming fear of rejection, and he wanted more than anything to show Nico didn’t have to hold on to those poisonous worries. He’d hoped that Nico would trust him enough to know that Dante would never hurt him.

Dante really couldn’t help but wonder, and so he blamed his obnoxiously overwhelming curiosity when he paused outside the bedroom door and briefly glanced inside. What he saw shocked him to the core: Nico had pulled his shirt off and was searching for a new one in his designated drawer, but it was not the pale, exposed skin that drew his attention – it was the scars.

Nico’s back – his shoulders, upper arms, even the hip visible just above his belt, were littered with old, stark-white scars. They were not scars from self harm or from knives or bullets, even; it looked as if Nico had been straight-out mauled by something years ago, because otherwise they would have pinker. Some looked as though they might have been made by the arc of a sword, but Dante couldn’t be sure.

Dante abruptly felt nauseous. No person, teenager or adult, could have survived an attack from an animal that size – based on the marks left behind, it must have been enormous – and even then, that didn’t explain Nico’s aversion to contact. If Dante had won those scars fighting a bear or whatever, he would be showing them off; Nico was the opposite. And while he was a very different person, Dante couldn’t stop his buzzing brain from whispering abuse. He never really spoke about his parents, though it was clear that he loved his mother dearly. Was his father behind this?

Dante felt something twist at his innards violently at the thought – of anyone doing that to someone so kind and accepting of others. Unable to keep his silence any longer, he gently pushed the door open and watched Nico jump, his chosen shirt still in his hand, as the door creaked loudly.

Nico was staring at him with wide eyes, frozen in place – but he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking with anxiety and fear.

Dante broke the silence, which had become unbearable. “What . . . what happened to you?” he asked, feeling as though he was on the verge of tears.

Nico flinched, still staring at him, and he looked absolutely ready to bolt – out the door, out the window, Dante figured it wouldn’t matter much to him. “What?”

“You’re covered in scars,” Dante said, the shock still coming through in his voice. “What happened, Nico?”

Suddenly he was looking everywhere but at Dante. “I don’t remember.”

Like hell you don’t remember, Dante wanted to shout, but he stopped himself. That wouldn’t help Nico trust him at all to tell him anything. That would only drive him further away. “I’m sorry, but I don’t believe you’d forget something like that,” he said quietly instead. “They must’ve hurt like hell.”

After several moments, Nico nodded and Dante’s insides twisted again.

“Are they why you don’t want me touching your skin? Because you’re afraid I’ll hurt you like that?”

This time Nico looked confused and even a little upset by those words, and he shook his head insistently. “No, Dante, that isn’t – it’s not that at all.”

“Then what? What happened?”

Nico paused, as if searching for words to describe what had occurred. “I . . . I was attacked.”

Dante thought something was a little off about the sudden confession, but he decided to let it slide. “How old were you?”

“Thirteen,” Nico answered, sighing raggedly as he sank onto the edge of the bed. “I was pretty messed up for a while. “I didn’t trust people to touch me for a long time.”

“You still don’t,” Dante pointed out gently, slowly approaching the bed to sit beside Nico, giving him some space to breathe.

“It was a lot worse a few years ago,” he countered, shrugging. He was still holding on to the unused shirt in his hands. “Only my sister could touch me.”

“And now you let me,” Dante mumbled, a little in awe of that.

“I trust you,” Nico said, his voice trembling the slightest amount as he swallowed thickly, reaching his hand out and silently asking for Dante’s hand. He held his hand out, and Nico grasped his wrist gently, guiding Dante’s hand to his side, just over a long, raised scar. Nico shivered at the touch of his fingers, but he didn’t jerk away. Dante splayed his fingers out over the surprisingly warm, soft skin covering his side, feeling each inhale and exhale with each miniscule movement.

Dante leaned in and rested his chin on Nico’s shoulder, nuzzling the other man’s neck softly.

0o0

As Christmas neared, Nico considered leaving for a few days to visit Hazel and the others at Camp Jupiter. It was a tempting thought – he hadn’t seen her in person for a long while – but less tempting was the knowledge that he’d have to deal with being crowded in by everyone else who was excited to see him, or intrigued by the strange, unfamiliar brother of their resident witch.

On the other hand, the other possibility was Dante’s exceptionally large family dinners and celebrations. Dante’s family was apparently quite massive beyond his brothers and sisters, and news of his new live-in boyfriend had traveled through the family tree like wildfire. He vividly recalled Dante’s beet-red face when he admitted that his Mama had talked about him at length to his aunts and uncles to the point where they were desperately looking forward to meeting Dante’s mystery partner.

All in all, considering Nico’s debilitating social anxieties, he couldn’t really tell which one would be the lesser of two evils. In the end, he essentially had to choose between his sister and his boyfriend. The crushing weight of the decision – which would cause insult on both sides depending on his choice – stressed him out even more, to the point where he woke from a nightmare about Hazel and Dante pulling him in different directions gasping for breath, only to have Dante rub his back and calm him down.

It came to a head two weeks later, after a rather tense dinner with Dante’s family; they returned to their apartment and Nico locked himself in the bathroom, quaking and taking deep, shuddering breaths as he tried to anchor himself against the sink.

They fought – really fought – for the first time then, as misunderstandings and miscommunications cluttered their thoughts and arguments until Nico felt his control slipping, and the lights flickered over their heads as he tore through the living room.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped, curling in on himself on the armchair. “I’m so sorry.”

Dante opened his mouth to retort, but thought better of it and deflated. He dropped down onto the couch, rubbing his face with his hands. “Why are you apologizing?” he asked wearily. “Stop it, you have nothing to apologize for. We just – we need to talk about this.”

Nico curled up further, but glanced over at Dante with narrowed eyes partially hidden by his long hair hanging in his face.

“Talk to me,” Dante said plaintively, his hands open in supplication. “Tell me what’s going on in your head. I thought you wanted to spend Christmas with my family.” This was spoken in a much quieter tone, broken and hurt.

Immediately Nico felt a wave of guilt sweep over him. “Don’t,” he hissed, glaring at him. “Don’t do that, you’re making me feel even worse!”

The other man flinched, frowning and looking down at his hands. “Sorry. I’ll – I’m sorry.”

Nico took a deep, steadying breath and let it out slowly, using every method he knew of to calm himself down from the verge of panic. “You know I care about you,” he started softly. “You know I like your family. This has nothing to do with me not wanting to be around them or you for Christmas. My sister Hazel asked me to come visit her, and . . . while I would love to spend Christmas with you and your family, I also have to think of her.

“This would be my first Christmas in a long time that wasn’t spent alone. I don’t want to seem like I’m picking favorites between you two, but it’s hard. You know crowds are hard for me, that I have trouble dealing with people being in my space. I know your family is excited to meet me and all, but . . . I really miss my sister. I’d love to spend Christmas with you guys, but . . . I hope you’ll understand.”

“Yeah, yeah of course,” Dante said quietly, nodding his head vigorously. “You should spend Christmas with your family.”

“I want to spend it with you. I really do,” Nico insisted. “But I’m just not sure I could handle your whole family just yet.”

Even though Dante nodded, Nico could feel the lingering disappointment coming off of his boyfriend, making him feel even worse.

“I’m sorry I ruined Mama’s plans to introduce me,” he tried, but Dante cut him off with a shake of his head.

He reached out instead, offering his hand to Nico, and when he took it Dante gently tugged him out of the armchair and into the space right beside him on the couch. Nico sat perpendicularly, draping his legs over Dante’s thighs while his back was supported by the arm of the couch. Dante still held on to Nico’s hand, rubbing his thumb gently over his knuckles while his other hand sat comfortably on Nico’s shin.

Dante tilted his head so their foreheads knocked together lightly, before he started talking. “You didn’t ruin anything,” he murmured. “You’re fine. I didn’t completely understand before, so I’m sorry. Don’t worry about Mama, there will be plenty of other times for you to meet my family. They can wait a little longer,” he said with a quiet smile, rubbing his nose against Nico’s cheek.

Nico felt his face scrunch up as he pushed away playfully. “Weirdo,” he muttered, squirming in his grasp. Dante held him tighter, swooping in to kiss his cheek as his hands stilled on Nico’s hips. He was suddenly very much aware of the pressure Dante’s hands put on him; Nico could trace every bone in his fingers and palms that made contact with his body, and he was struck by the realization that he really didn’t mind it at all. He _liked_ the pressure, the feel of Dante’s hands on him, and that alone made his heart start to race. Nico was used to the sensation of touch repulsing him, but this – the spark of heat in his lower belly, the curious desire to find out what more of this would feel like, how Dante’s hands would feel against him – this was terrifying. It took all of his control not to simply bolt from his embrace.

Dante cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, probably sensing Nico’s sudden discomfort. “When are you thinking of leaving?”

Nico paused, thinking through the upcoming days. “Probably the 23rd.”

“I can get you into the airport,” Dante offered, his thumbs rubbing over Nico’s hips absently.

“I’ll just take a taxi. I know you’ve got work.”

Dante’s smile wilted slightly. “I guess.”

“I’ll be back after New Years. I won’t be gone long.”

“I’ll still miss you,” Dante murmured.

Nico abruptly wondered if there had ever been a time in his life where someone other than one of his sisters had actually missed him, but pushed those darker thoughts away when he figured out that the clenching in his chest meant he felt the same way about leaving Dante. “Same,” he admitted softly, completely ignoring the bright smile that unfurled on his boyfriend’s face at the admission.

The days leading up to him leaving weigh on Nico a little more than he’d like to admit. Suddenly, he doesn’t like the idea of leaving Dante for nearly two weeks. They’ve spent too much time being around each other constantly, and now Nico feels as though he’s completely used to Dante’s constant, comforting presence and he doesn’t know how to be without it. They spend more time curled up on their couch, playing video games or watching movies together – though the latter is largely spent kissing.

It’s absurd, really – Nico knows this. He’s behaving as though he’s leaving and never coming back, though in truth it’s the complete opposite. Nico knows that he’ll be back January 2nd, and they’ll only be apart for eleven days; it’s not a long time at all, but as he gets closer to his departure date it feels that way.

He’s told Dante that his plane leaves at eleven AM even though he’s just going to shadow travel his way there, so Nico has to leave enough time to get his things together and head out to a place that is safer to travel from.

(Nico has been thinking of ways to tell Dante, because the amount of lies he has to tell is getting ridiculous. It’s too much to keep up with.)

Still, the morning of the 23rd is spent stubbornly in bed. As he often does unconsciously in his sleep, Nico awakens to find himself curled up beside Dante to take advantage of his body heat in the chilly morning air. This time though, he’s pressed tightly against Dante’s back, his arms wrapped around his boyfriend’s body tightly enough that he can feel his heartbeat under his hands. Eventually he twisted around, pulling his out from between Dante’s shoulder blades, to look at the clock and grimace.

“ ‘s too early,” Dante grumbled, dragging his fingers over the slim cut of Nico’s wrist.

“I’m supposed to go to the airport soon,” Nico sighed, nuzzling the skin between his shoulders again.

“Stay,” he heard Dante whisper, and every cell in his body repeated the word in a chorus. Instead, he pressed a sloppy kiss to the fabric covering his shoulders and rubbed his palm up and down Dante’s abdomen, fingers catching on the fabric. As awareness came back to him Nico grimaced, because the warmth and cuddling had resulted in a growing hardness against Dante’s ass.

He started to apologize, but Dante’s mumbled “I can help, you know,” stalled his embarrassment while his brain possibly short-circuited.

“That’s not – you don’t have to-“he stammered, glad that Dante was turned away from him as he flushed deep red.

“It’s ok, just do what feels good,” Dante hummed pleasantly, tilting his hips back so they pressed against Nico’s groin.

“You want to do this?”

“Do you?”

Nico’s mouth opened and closed repeatedly, though no sound came from his lips. How was he supposed to answer that objectively?

“You’re thinking about it too much,” Dante mumbled from beside him. “Just relax. I like the way you feel.”

He felt those words like a kick to the solar plexus, shocking him with their sincerity. Nico felt like he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t process words or higher mental functions to work his way through how to respond. His whole body tensed and his breath came in quick rasps as he fought the sudden rush of panic down. Nico barely managed to notice Dante sighing and deflating in his arms ever so slightly.

“If you don’t want to, it’s ok,” he said, the words barely audible over Nico’s tense breaths. Dante was rubbing his wrist in gentle circles, calming and centering him in the moment.

Nico briefly considered pulling away, but quickly threw that idea away; the thought of letting him go made his stomach clench even worse than the thought of staying. He let the tension bleed out of his limbs, but shifted his hand higher, pressing his palm to the center of Dante’s chest. “I don’t,” Nico paused, licking his lips nervously, “I don’t want to go, though.” The words came out in a rush, his breath ghosting against the nape of Dante’s neck.

Dante huffed, and suddenly Nico was dislodged from his spot against his back as his boyfriend twisted around and settled so he was facing Nico on the bed. He felt frozen all of a sudden, faced with the reality of the situation as he was met with Dante’s earnest, shattered expression; Dante looked like he was still fighting some sleepiness, but his eyes were clear and focused and his lower lip looked red, as if he’d been chewing on it.

In the last few years – and in particular the last twelve months – Nico had gone over each and every action and possible action obsessively, considering how his actions and words would be taken and interpreted by their friends, Dante’s family, and most importantly Dante himself. He didn’t want his actions or words to be misunderstood like they had been with Percy and the other demigods he’d interacted with; these were people that he’d come to value far more than he’d originally planned, and he never wanted to have his intentions misinterpreted again. Nico carefully thought out everything he said and did most of the time, and he stuck to the plans he concocted to assure that would never happen again.

It might have been several moments or even hours before Nico moved, but this time he didn’t bother to think through his actions or examine how they could be interpreted. His gaze kept flicking between Dante’s eyes and his mouth; he could tell that Dante was waiting for him to decide what he wanted and how Nico wanted to go about it, and that made something in his chest burst. He made a split-second decision and surged forward, closing the distance between them and pressing his lips against Dante’s.

The reaction was instantaneous - Dante gasped and grabbed his bicep, wrapping his arm around Nico’s shoulders to drag him closer; Nico tilted his head and deepened the kiss, cupping the other man’s jaw as he drew Dante in, forgetting all about his earlier notions about personal space and touch. For a long time it was just kissing and touching, holding each other close and pulling one another closer when it felt right, when Nico felt the desperation to have his boyfriend touching him more. They’d done this before – kissing for the sake of kissing, because Nico wasn’t completely comfortably with moving beyond that and Dante was content to wait for him to be more comfortable, but there was a different charge to the very small space between them, a spark of desire and need that made Nico hold on a little tighter, made him dig his fingers into Dante’s shoulder blades to keep him from drifting away.

Suddenly Nico’s world flipped again as Dante shifted onto his back and pulled Nico over him, arms wrapping around his torso while he raised a thigh between Nico’s legs. He reeled from the new sensations, the wonderful new pressure with his erection rubbing against Dante’s hip and his boyfriend’s thigh pressing in all the right places. Nico scrambled, planting his palms on either side of Dante’s head and pushing himself up to look down at the other man; he wanted to laugh a little at the rather put-out expression on Dante’s face but he held that back to take in his flushed cheeks, hazy eyes, and kiss-swollen lips, the sight of which had liquid heat pooling further south. Ignoring the impulse to kiss and roll his hips until the tension in his body was released, Nico leaned his head down and looked between them, biting his lip as he adjusted his knee so it would press right between Dante’s legs.

“Get back here,” Dante grumbled, tugging at his shirt and shoulders and trying to bring Nico back down. When Nico obliged, he was almost embarrassed by the sound that escaped his mouth; it was obscene, honestly – they hadn’t even undressed, they were still wearing the shirts and pants they’d worn betting into bed the night before, and yet Nico felt absurd, like they were in the middle of an erotic film.

Things got a little hazy in Nico’s head after that, driven purely by the need to keep moving, keep rolling his hips against Dante’s as they pushed each other towards completion; he tried not to think about having never done something like this before, or of what it might mean for them and their relationship – was this a transitioning point, meaning that things would start getting more physical between them? He knew he wanted it _in that moment_ , but what about later, when his inhibitions and nervousness returned? Nico tried not to think too hard about the hands running wildly over his back and down to cup his ass, or about the embarrassing hitch in his own voice that he no longer had any control over, or the flickering light beside their bed. Those would be things he’d obsess over later.

Nico found his release first, gasping against Dante’s neck as his hips jerked, a feeling of weightlessness flooding his veins while Dante steadied him through it, holding them close together as he canted his hips up, Nico’s name on his lips.

Nico was not going to think about that. He wasn’t going to think about the sticky feeling in his pajama pants, or the sweat covering his body and making his clothes stick to him, or the light beside the bed – which was now on, giving the room a warm glow (had he done that?), or the light, warm puffs of breath against his collar bone, the solid warmth of Dante’s body beneath him, or – or the tender fingers across his forehead and cheeks, combing wet, sweaty hair from his eyes while his heart beat madly in his chest.

He took several deep, shaky breaths as he allowed Dante to shift them once again, laying them back down on their sides before pulling Nico close, still combing his hair, and tucking him against his chest. Meanwhile, Nico’s mind was racing. He felt overwhelmed, over-stimulated, and unsure of what this meant for them.

“I have to go,” he whispered, the words probably barely registering to Dante’s ears.

Dante groaned sadly, but pressed a wet kiss to his forehead. “Alright. I’ll see you when you get back,” he responded just as quietly.

Taking that as his cue to escape, Nico slipped from the bed and Dante’s embraced, making a dash for the bathroom; he took a scalding hot shower, scrubbing at the dried come on his stomach and thighs until he felt mostly clean. He pulled on some clothes and packed a bunch more in his bag, then left the apartment without another word. The second the heavy door closed Nico felt sick at leaving Dante and his warm bed without saying goodbye, but he needed the space and he needed to get out of there before he did something he’d regret. He headed up the stairs in the building until he reached the top floor; then he pulled the shadows around himself, and propelled himself into the world of shadows towards Camp Jupiter. Nico needed all his focus, because he was out of practice.

He left, meeting Hazel right near the altar to Pluto before tackling her in a tight hug.

0o0

Dante had waited for Nico to come back from the shower and say goodbye again. It wasn’t – he didn’t expect it, but he hoped that Nico would come back and kiss him goodbye, especially after what they’d just done together. He’d assumed that doing _that_ might have made Nico a little clingy – that’s how Dante felt after a mind-blowing orgasm at least, and he enjoyed the physical contact while Nico allowed it. Apparently the primary effect it had on Nico was panic, if the lack of farewell and the now empty apartment was anything to go by.

In the days following Nico’s swift exit, Dante oscillated between welcoming the very lovely dreams he had – all variations on their morning session, though with slightly better endings – and vowing to give Nico a piece of his mind for running when he returned. Dante hadn’t experienced this level of frustration in a long time, and it was wearing his patience thin. It wasn’t completely Nico’s fault per se – Dante wasn’t enough of an asshole to believe that he was entitled to more now that that door had been pushed open, but having that small teaser and being left to his own devices – and the dark corners of his own mind – in the aftermath still sucked. He dreamed, and he wanted more; he wanted to show Nico that touch wasn’t something he had to be afraid of, that physical contact could be good – really good.

Instead, Dante was left to contemplate how much of that Nico was actually, really ok with – if he was ok with it at all. He had disappeared rather quickly in the aftermath. Dante spent hours alone in their bed, his gaze flickering over to Nico’s untouched side of the bed, going over each word and each action, combing for clues that might explain why he’d run.

Meanwhile, the newly introduced physical component of their relationship plagued him, making even simple masturbation an issue. His always overactive imagination led him to increasingly erotic situations involving his boyfriend, and Dante tried very hard to reel himself back in before he started feeling too guilty about it.

He hadn’t been bothered at all before about the lack of sex in their relationship. Once he started dating Nico, that whole part of his brain just seemed to subside; it wasn’t as important suddenly, and with Nico clearly not being as enthused about intimate situations Dante was just fine taking a step back.

Slow was ok – he could totally do slow. They didn’t need to be having sex when there was clearly a lot of trust being shared between them. Nico was extremely particular about who touched him and how, but it seemed like he placed no restrictions on Dante. Dante was pretty much welcome to touch him as he liked, while Nico shied away from other people’s hands; Dante vividly remembered being allowed in close to remove stray eyelashes from Nico’s cheek, gently combing his fingers through Nico’s hair to pull it into a short, messy ponytail, rubbing his feet and cracking all of his toes while Nico groaned on the couch beside him, feet twitching in Dante’s practiced hands. He’d learned enough from the psychology class he’d ended up in last year to know that those kinds of actions came with a level of intimacy with the other person, and knowing that Nico welcomed him in those situations made him feel happier than he’d ever been.

Said knowledge also made him feel lonelier now without him, and Dante found himself staring at the calendar counting down until January second, when Nico promised he’d be home.

0o0

When Nico finally returned shortly after New Years’, he came bearing a small box containing Dante’s Christmas present. He’d fretted about it for hours while he was staying at Camp Jupiter, trying to figure out what would be the best gift that didn’t seem too over-the-top – but that still meant something and was worthy enough to give. Eventually he settled on a gold watch that had been produced by the Roman camp. It was understated at first – just a gold watch with a deep blue face – until you looked closer; on closer examination the face not only had arrows ticking away the time, but also showed the movement of the planets around the face. It was almost like giving Dante a piece of his world, the one he couldn’t access, while still keeping him safe.

His brief return to Camp Jupiter was celebrated with very little fanfare, as per Nico’s request; for the most part they remained outside the main forum in a large apartment that had been set aside for Hazel and Frank. They were still dating, and Frank was as friendly with him as ever, but Nico did start to get the feeling that Frank was stewing on a plan to propose to Hazel in the near future. They only ventured into the forum for the two big holiday celebrations, for which both Nico and Hazel donned gold-trimmed, formal black togas; he was fairly certain he caught some people staring, but no one approached him.

It surprised him how happy he was to leave Camp Jupiter; Nico loved Hazel deeply, and enjoyed Frank’s company when they were together, but throughout the whole trip he felt like he was missing something. It was harder to sleep than it had ever been, after just a little more than a month of sharing a bed with Dante – he was so used to his presence and warmth and his tendency to cuddle that his bed in New Rome felt cold and empty. Some nights he thought about what had transpired between him and Dante before he left, but he tried not to: thinking about how good it had felt and how much he had wanted to do more scared him, leaving Nico sweaty and half hard and utterly terrified to the point where he closed the memory off and willed his erection away.

He made his goodbyes to Hazel and Frank, waving over his shoulder before bringing himself back to their apartment. Dante was in the kitchen, making what smelled like a spicy pasta sauce for dinner, when he walked in and announced himself. Dante started, pulling away from the stove to grin happily; Nico took that as an invitation and crossed the already short distance between them to launch himself into Dante’s arms, kissing him deeply and clutching at his arms like he couldn’t get close enough.

Presenting him with the watch was even more nerve-wracking than it had been purchasing it, but Nico figured he did really well in picking it out just based on Dante’s slack-jawed awe when he opened the box. Nico positively beamed when he put it on right away.

He hadn’t been expecting anything from Dante, so he couldn’t help but be stunned when his boyfriend presented him with a wrapped box of his own. Nico felt his hands shake just a bit when he took it – it had been a long time since he’d received any Christmas gifts from another person. He unwrapped the box and found a wide, deep grey scarf knitted in an intricate but understated pattern; it was incredibly soft to the touch, so unlike the rougher wools that were used in hats and winter coats in the area. Nico was only half listening as Dante began talking about baby alpacas and their wool, all while pulling it from its box to drape it around Nico’s neck; he wrapped the scarf around his neck and tied it at the base of his throat, looking Nico up and down proudly.

Nico couldn’t move for a few moments, but once he regained control of his body he surged forward and hugged Dante tightly, relaxing for the first time in over a week when Dante wrapped his arms around him in turn.

0o0

“We should talk,” Dante ventured, tapping his fingers in a strange rhythm against his thighs. Nico was watching him furtively, curled up on the other side of the couch. He’d been home now for several hours, and while they’d hugged at first and were happy to see each other, now that things had calmed down there was some definite tension between them.

Nico played the oblivious card. “About . . .?”

Dante raised an eyebrow at him, and decided to counter his forced obliviousness with blunt truth. “The sex.”

Nico seemed to choke on air at the utterance of those words. “Sex? What sex?”

Every cell of him wanted to snort and laugh out loud at Nico’s expression, but Dante held himself back. “The sex that we had – before you left, remember?”

“That . . . wasn’t sex,” Nico stammered, stubbornly clinging to his obliviousness.

Dante leveled him with a sardonic expression, complete with a comically raised eyebrow. “You engaged in an activity with another party in which both of you achieved orgasm. Sex,” Dante said bluntly, shrugging.

Nico stared at him with wide eyes for several moments. “That doesn’t-“

“It counts,” Dante cut him off.

“We didn’t even take our clothes off!” Nico blurted, sounding almost hysterical.

“Still counts.”

“It does not!” he insisted.

“Counts as non-penetrative sex,” Dante started, repeating the words with almost clinical precision. “Mutual masturbation, frottage, dry humping – still counts as sex, Nico. Which we had.”

Nico swallowed thickly, his eyes widening even further before he breathed, “Oh my gods we had sex,” before turning beet red and burying his face in his hands.

“You left before I could talk to you about it. I hoped you’d come back after your shower.”

“Oh.”

“’Oh,’ he says,” Dante muttered, snorting.

“We can talk now,” Nico offered a few minutes later, a weak comparison to the conversation they might have had when the act was still fresh in their minds.

Dante snorted again, shaking his head. “I just wanted you to know that . . . what happened, doesn’t need to change our relationship. It’s up to you, what you want to do with it. I enjoyed it, I know you did, but I also know how you feel about physical contact, so it’s fine if you don’t want to. We don’t have to have sex to show that we care about each other or to prove something, or-“ Dante cut himself off from rambling, his hands waving ineffectually.

“You’re absolutely positive?” Nico hedged, leaning in a little closer to him. “You’re saying it doesn’t have to change?”

“Yeah. That’s fine.”

Nico looked away and shifted around, like he was uncomfortable in his seat or feeling particularly twitchy. “Ok. Ok. I, um. I really did like it, being with you like that. So I don’t really want to rule that out for the future – is that ok?”

Dante slipped his arm around Nico’s shoulders and tugged him closer, kissing his temple. “That’s perfectly fine,” he agreed.

0o0

Things returned to some semblance of normalcy after that flap; the major difference was that they did begin to experiment a bit more. Dante found that he really enjoyed drawing things out and watching the expressions play across Nico’s face as he found all of the sensitive spots on Nico’s body, one by one. There had been a particularly fascinating experience giving Nico his first blow job a few weeks later, one Dante was not likely to forget anytime soon.

They were more comfortable with each other, Dante thought, but there were still some nagging things that didn’t change. There had been a discussion about Dante’s smoking, which bothered Nico more than Dante felt he could grasp. Most of the Italian population smoked, but for some reason Nico found it completely abhorrent. That didn’t change the fact that Dante’s cravings usually skyrocketed in January and February, which was when he first started seeing Luca several years ago.

The cold brought back the memories he preferred to keep hidden, and his nerves and anxiety about the resurfacing images kicked up his craving for nicotine.

One afternoon, the craving for a smoke got to be too strong for him to handle; it itched in his veins and made him feel more anxious and frustrated by the second. He’d been doing well, keeping his smoking to a minimum, particular when Nico was staying with him, but Dante figured he could only hold out on having one for so long. He glanced over at his boyfriend, who was spread out on the couch with his legs draped over Dante’s lap reading a political textbook, and thought better of his decision – for a few seconds.

Fuck this; he wanted a cigarette, and he was going to have one. It was his apartment, anyway.

So he lit up, taking a deep breath in before exhaling smoke, and he felt all the tension in his body leech away. Nico’s reaction was anything but relaxing, though. His boyfriend tensed, and a second later he found Nico’s dark, penetrating eyes glaring at him through black fringe; the expression on his face clearly indicated that Dante was going to be on his shit list.

Nico sighed, and Dante felt himself tense up again. “Why do you insist on killing yourself?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re killing your lungs,” Nico said harshly, his gaze unwavering. “You’re coating them with tar, scarring them, and soon enough the chemicals in those things will build up and you’ll have cancer. It-“

“Leave me alone, Nico,” Dante cut him off angrily, taking another drag just to make a point. “I haven’t smoked all day.”

“I guess I just want to understand why you need this,” Nico snarled, “why you insist on destroying yourself when you know-“

“Because it doesn’t bother me,” Dante hissed, becoming more and more agitated. “I’m better off with this, aren’t I? Considering the other possibilities, I mean.”

Nico didn’t answer. When he finally gathered the courage to look over at his boyfriend, Dante felt his chest clench; Nico looked as if he’d been slapped, staring at him blankly. “Why would you say that?”

“Because a slow death seems better to me than unsuspectingly OD’ing in some alley, ok?” Dante snarled.

“So you would rather die than give up those things? Because your life means so little, am I right?” Nico said, withdrawing his legs from Dante’s lap; he felt cold without them, all of a sudden.

Dante wasn’t proud of the fight that ensued. It was painful to fight with Nico like this, violently and without mercy in their words. They’d argued before, but Dante had never fought this hard with his boyfriend; Nico was terrifying when he was angry. He’d never seen it to that extent before, where the very shadows in the room seemed to press in around him, making Nico look like something out of his nightmares. But in a flash the image was gone, and so was Nico. Dante heard a door slam so violently it knocked a picture or two off the wall, and the apartment was abruptly silent.

0o0

Nico ran, and for only the second time in nearly two years he pulled the shadows around him and leapt right into them. The shadows dropped him into an alley in Rome, far away from the hustle and bustle of the center. He seethed, pushing through a small crowd of shoppers and tourists with his head ducked to hide his red face and the enraged tears in his eyes. The people he pushed into shouted obscenities at him, but he ignored them.

Nico found himself closer to the center soon enough, so blinded by his rage at Dante’s lack of concern or care and his obstinate defiance. His feet carried him to the Victor Emmanuel monument, much to his own disdain, and he looked up at the highest point of the monument critically. The sun was setting, so the monument was closing for the night. He wouldn’t have to deal with anyone all the way up at the top.

He pulled the shadows around him again, focusing on the highest point of the monument. The shadows welcomed him readily, wrapping around him in cool waves and sweeping him up. Nico stumbled a little when he arrived at the top, his hair whipping  in the wind; his body felt ridiculously tired, like his energy was leeching out of him in rapid time. Still, he pushed aside the ache in his muscles and bones and climbed up one of the enormous horses to sit on its back.

The night turned cold, cold enough that some part of him really wanted to find a blanket or another coat to wrap around himself, but he forced himself to stay put. He had nowhere else to go but back to Venice – and the choices of his mother’s penthouse or Dante’s apartment did not comfort him at all. Instead he wrapped his leather jacket closer to his body and bore through the cold like he had for so long. He stayed, perched atop the iron horse, and let the cold numb his emotions like it did his body.

Fighting with Dante was abhorrent in Nico’s mind; it brought out the worst in him, shattered his control and his own sense of worth as they screamed terrible things to each other. Remembering the things he’d said made Nico want to let himself tumble down the marble monument’s steps until he couldn’t feel his own shame anymore. As much as he cared for his boyfriend, there wasn’t much to stop Nico’s mind from bringing up other terrible memories and thoughts. Several times over the course of his stay on top of the monument, Nico wondered if it would just be better if he left. He’d already taken the first step: he would be nowhere to be found in Venice even if Dante went searching for him, and there was an entrance to the Underworld through the Roman catacombs that gave him an easy escape route.

He could disappear, and no one would know where he’d gone. He could leave all this insanity behind, go back to his father and-

Nico cut his train of thought off abruptly as he felt a wave of nausea wash over him. He could leave, sure – but that was how he solved his problems when he was a child.

He’d run away from Percy so many times he’d lost count – after he heard about Bianca, in the Labyrinth, when he left with Reyna, Coach Hedge, and the Athena Parthenos, and then when he slipped into the shadows before Percy returned. Those choices had all been made to prevent himself from breaking down and giving Percy Jackson the satisfaction of knowing he affected him that way – it had been necessary but childish, the whole running away thing, because he hadn’t been able to understand or handle the situation.

Nico chewed on his lip; he was almost twenty now, or would be in less than a month, and it seemed utterly stupid that he would fall back on his childhood coping mechanism when things took a slightly sour turn with Dante. They’d fought, yes, but he’d also been witness to several of their friends fighting and making up with their significant others only to develop a stronger bond (Nico would never admit to secretly studying his friends as they tried to work these things out; social behavior was something of a mystery to him, and furthermore he found it beneficial to see how they dealt with their boyfriends or girlfriends, because the only references he had were Percy and Annabeth, really. A little bit of extra research never hurt anyone, he figured). If Dante was amenable – which Nico really, sincerely hoped he was, especially as he thought about everything they’d been through in the last several months together – they could work through this issue and come out stronger; Nico was already considering ways that they could compromise on Dante’s smoking, because while he strongly disliked it he couldn’t just demand that Dante kick a years-old addiction to the curb because that was what he wanted – Dante had to want it as well.

Nico let his mind wander, and time slipped through his fingers in the dark. When he finally decided that it was probably time to head back, the sun was starting to peak out over the city skyline. He was still tired, but it was only when the sun started to crawl up the sky that he realized how long he’d been gone. Nico hoped that Dante wasn’t still angry, and that they could fix the rift between them. So once again he pulled the shadows around him and this time imagined Dante’s apartment building as his destination.

Nico stumbled out of the shadows when he finally arrived, his jelly legs wobbling under his weight as he unlocked the door to Dante’s apartment. His whole body felt like it had been turned to mush – even his brain, and his eyes felt heavy. He felt like he could barely keep them open.

The apartment was dark, which wasn’t really helping that matter; it was dark, and almost completely silent. Nico wondered if Dante had fallen asleep for a few moments, until he heard his boyfriend’s unmistakable voice.

“Yes . . . yes, he’s been missing since yesterday afternoon. He left, and I don’t know where he went.” Dante’s voice sounded ragged and wrecked, like he’d spent half the night screaming himself hoarse, and he even sounded exhausted. “When he didn’t come back, I went out looking. I couldn’t find him. Please, I’m really worried. Then let me talk to another officer, please.”

Dante was on the phone with the police. About him. He was trying to report Nico as missing . . . and he’d spent the night looking for him, which was more than Nico could say about anyone else in his life, even Percy. “Dante,” he said softly.

His boyfriend didn’t respond; he turned, his expression twisted with fear as he raked his hand through his hair.

Nico cleared his throat, and said his name a little louder.

In any other situation, Dante’s reaction might have been funny – but the look in his eyes when he turned and saw Nico was anything but humorous: there was pain, worry, and relief as he muttered something to the policeman on the phone and dropped the device on the ground, completely oblivious to it. He moved closer, reaching out to pull Nico into a tight embrace even as Nico slumped bonelessly against the wall.  Dante pulled him in close, wrapping his arms around Nico’s torso and threading his fingers into his hair, while pressing his face into the crook of his boyfriend’s neck.

“Where the hell have you been?” Dante demanded, the words choked off and thick. “I looked everywhere for you!”

“I didn’t want to be found,” Nico mumbled.

Dante staggered, and carefully maneuvered them onto the floor while still being wrapped tightly around Nico. “You asshole, I got my whole family out looking for you – I deserve a better answer than that.”

“You – what?”

“My whole family, Nico. My parents, grandparents, brothers and sisters, all went out looking for you because I called them in a panic when you didn’t come back. You weren’t at your grandmother’s place either . . . I was scared we’d find you on the street somewhere, or dead, or that you’d . . . just gone.”

Nico pulled away ever so slightly, just to give himself some space, and looked up at his boyfriend. How did he get so lucky, to find this man who was willing to go out all night searching for him even after a brutal fight? Did Dante really care that much for him, to do that? Nico remembered dropping everything to go looking for a missing Percy; he remembered the despair and the terror he’d felt when he heard that he’d gone missing – was that what Dante had felt when he realized that Nico wasn’t returning quickly enough?

He reached up and gently tugged Dante’s face closer to his and kissed him, rubbing the pads of his thumbs over his boyfriend’s jawline. The kiss was sweet but rushed with Nico’s own emotions, his need to show Dante how much his efforts meant to him.

Dante pulled away from it quickly though, framing Nico’s face with his hands and scrutinizing him carefully. “You’re freezing. Are you alright?”

Nico nodded. “I’m fine. Listen – I’m sorry,” he said, pushing himself to apologize before he let the issue drop. “I’m sorry for pushing you, it’s not fair of me. I just – I lost my family, Dante. My mother was murdered and my sister died . . . in an accident. I don’t want to lose you too, especially to something that could be prevented.”

It was Dante’s turn to pull him close for a kiss; this one was placed on Nico’s forehead, and Dante’s arms wrapped tightly around Nico once more, pulling him in to his boyfriend’s chest. With his cheek pressed to Dante’s chest, Nico could feel the minute vibrations as the other man shook, and he heard his heart hammering behind his ribcage. “I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright. I never said. I’m sorry I scared you.”

“Where’d you go?”

Nico snorted, huffing against his chest. “A rooftop.”

Dante swore under his breath. “You fucking idiot, no wonder you’re freezing.” He pressed a kiss to Nico’s forehead and guided him in the direction of their bedroom. His exhaustion caught up with him and he staggered, supported only by Dante’s arms, as his boyfriend tugged off his aviator jacket and tucked him into bed. Then Dante pulled out a pile of blankets and layered them on top of Nico.

“I’m cold, not sick,” Nico complained lightly.

“Shut up,” Dante said affectionately, pressing his palm to Nico’s forehead and pushing his hair back. “Jackass.”

Nico stuck his tongue out at him, snuggling in despite himself.

When he woke up, maybe two or three hours later, Nico felt a solid weight – like a bar – across his stomach. He peeked out from the numerous blankets just enough to see Dante’s face buried in a pillow right beside his head, laying beside him with an arm slung over Nico’s torso. He was snoring, and the sound made Nico want to giggle a little.

Since he couldn’t wriggle out from beneath the blankets, Nico rolled over instead, curling up to Dante even though the other man was snoozing on top of the blankets.

When Nico finally woke again, Dante was still laying beside him – though this time he was awake and frowning at his cell phone screen as he typed on the little keyboard. “What’s wrong?” Nico murmured sleepily.

“Mama is texting me.”

“Oh. Crap.”

“She’s glad you’re ok, but she wants us to come over for dinner.”

“She’s gonna kill me, isn’t she?” Nico groaned.

“I won’t let her kill you, Nico. Is she a little mad at you? That’s . . . likely.”

Nico groaned again, more dramatically this time, throwing an arm over his eyes.

“I will point out that you ran away – and I still have no idea where you went, which scares me quite frankly – and you were gone throughout a very cold night. And you say you were on a roof, which doesn’t help your case. She’s probably going to drown you in soup and smack you with her spoon.”

“Oooh, drowning,” Nico muttered dryly. “I always figured it would be that.”

“Why’s that?” Dante asked, putting his brick of a cell phone aside. Mama was threatening to send his brother over to get them if they didn’t show up that night.

Nico shrugged. “No reason, really.”

Dante let the subject drop, content to just enjoy Nico’s company again after an incredibly stressful twenty four hours. Yet even as he considered letting the day’s events fall by the wayside, he knew they were going to have to discuss the fight to make things better. Running away and getting a tearful reunion didn’t make things right. “Nico. We need to talk about what happened yesterday.”

“Oh no, you’re serious.”

“I am. Can we talk about it?”

“Fine. I already said I was sorry for pushing you and for disappearing, though.”

“Yes, you did. And . . . I’m sorry for blowing up at you. I know you hate my smoking, and I’ve been trying to cut back on them for a while now. Sometimes the cravings just get to me, you know?”

“And it’s even harder when I’m harassing you,” Nico mumbled in acknowledgment.

“You know me, I get told I shouldn’t or can’t have something and immediately I want it,” Dante snorted.

“I’ll try to be better about that. But you know . . . I said earlier I didn’t want to lose you to something as preventable as cancer. Truth is, I don’t want to see you die because of those things or by overdosing. That’s . . . what set me off, really. Even if you’ve been clean for five years – that part scares me the most.”

“The next time we fight, don’t run away. Take a break, go for a walk or something, but please – do not disappear like that again. I really can’t stress that enough.”

“You were calling the carabinieri on me.”

“I was terrified!” Dante hissed harshly, his blood simmering a little at that statement. “My whole family was out looking for you – all night, by the way, and it was freezing – throughout the city, and we never saw you. We looked everywhere.”

Nico had the decency to look contrite, at least. “I’m sorry, I really am. Usually when I escape for a couple hours . . . no one cares.”

“Yeah, well, congratulations – you’ve been adopted by my family. Good luck getting anyone to not care.”

Nico looked away, shifting uncomfortably. “I guess I’m still not used to that. It’s been a while since I’ve had that.”

Dante frowned deeply, feeling the truth behind those words like a kick to the chest. He was well aware that Nico didn’t feel like he was worth the trouble, but he’d been so sure that his mindset was improving, his self-esteem solidifying. It saddened him to think of Nico meandering through his life completely on his own, under the impression that no one actually cared where he was or what he was doing. He thought about Nico’s sister suddenly, the remaining one whom he visited over the holiday – did Nico talk with her regularly? Was she someone he talked to when he got stressed or frustrated, and did he keep her updated as to where he was and what he was doing? Dante only knew that her name was Hazel, and that she lived in the United States, in California – aside from that, he only knew that Nico loved her deeply. He knew next to nothing about Nico’s former life in the United States, other than the tidbits of information he gave about Percy, the first boy he had a crush on, and the few other friends he had. Most days it didn’t bother Dante, because he knew this Nico and cared for him deeply; on others, it made him curious about the parts of him he hadn’t yet been introduced to.

Shaking off his wandering thoughts, Dante leaned closer and cupped Nico’s jaw with his palm, thumb soothing over his pale cheek. “You have that now,” he whispered, hoping it was a comfort for his boyfriend. “My parents have already started thinking of you as their fourth son – my brothers and sisters care about you a lot, and I. Well.” Dante blushed, his eyes shifting away from Nico’s unsettling and intense stare. “I care about you more than all of them combined. You’re . . . very important to me,” he whispered, finally meeting Nico’s gaze.

The effect was nearly electric; Nico’s deep brown eyes appeared nearly fathomless, drawing him in and even closer, as though he was being pulled in by a bone-deep hook right behind his breast bone.

0o0

Nico’s twentieth birthday involved a small party at Dante’s parents’ house; Dante joined his Mama and grandparents in making a small feast for twelve of them while Nico was barred from the kitchen and from helping out, much to his chagrin. He’d insisted that his birthday wasn’t a huge deal, and wanted to help out when Dante’s family ignored his pleas for ignorance, but apparently they weren’t going to listen to him on that regard either. So he sat and talked with Dante’s brothers, Marco and Lucio. They had warmed up to him significantly in the last few months, though occasionally they still gave him a hard time about his stressful disappearing act; Lucio continued to claim that he’d gotten frostbite on his fingers, but Nico had learned that their teasing was all in jest so he didn’t take it too seriously.

Shortly before dinner, despite the brothers distracting him, Nico caught a glimpse of Dante sneaking out of the kitchen and into his parents’ bedroom; not long after, he distinctly heard Dante’s slightly raised voice arguing with his father’s. The argument didn’t last long though, as Dante emerged a few minutes later looking triumphant.

Dinner involved what might have been the best meal he’d had in a long time – whole roasted fish with lemon and parsley, artichokes, and warm bread alongside a wide range of other dishes that he knew he wouldn’t be able to leave without trying. Conversation flowed easily now that they were all more comfortable with each other, making the warmth in the room almost palpable. Nico wondered if this was what it might have been like to grow up with his mother and Bianca, if they had a mortal father.

Every once in a while Nico stole a glance over at Dante, who still looked incredibly pleased with himself. Here and there he caught Dante’s father giving the two of them a look – just a furrowed brow and a glower, but it seemed softer than the glare he used to give Nico whenever he came over the house.

Before he and Dante left, his father pulled Nico aside while the rest of the family hugged Dante goodbye. The elder Marco Salvai was a little shorter than Dante, but he carried himself in a way that clearly stated he’d once been a powerfully built young man (Dante had let slip that his father had been a boxer before he married); he had a kind but weary face, marked by lines around his eyes and mouth from both joy and profound stress.

“My boy really likes you, you know,” he said gruffly, looking Nico square in the eye.

Nico swallowed thickly, standing his ground. “I know. I like him too. Sir,” he added as an afterthought, gulping.

“Good,” the older man smiled, and his grip on Nico’s arm tightened just a bit. “Because if you hurt my boy, or pull a stunt like the last one again, no rooftop in the world will keep me from finding you.”

Nico stared at him with wide eyes, frozen in place, as Dante’s father smiled again and patted his cheek with his palm. After that, Nico couldn’t get out of the house fast enough.

“Your father is _terrifying_ ,” he all but exclaimed as they walked down the cobblestone streets back to their apartment. “I think I’m more scared of him than I am of my own father.”

“Oh shit, what did he say to you?” Dante groaned. “Is that what that whole thing was, when he was patting your cheek? I am so sorry, Nico.”

“He threatened to hunt me down if I ever hurt you! Not that I would, not intentionally – but still. Scary.”

“I think he’s gotten more intense with age,” Dante mused, unlocking the front door of their apartment building.

They fell into silence as they walked up three flights of stairs to the fourth floor and let themselves into the apartment, kicking off their shoes in the entryway and dropping their coats on the couch, until Nico couldn’t keep himself from asking the question any longer: “Do you know what brought on your dad’s sudden surge in protectiveness?”

“Yeah,” Dante answered evasively. “I asked him for something that I wanted to give you for your birthday.”

Nico stared at him for a few moments, not quite comprehending several pieces of that sentence. “You know you didn’t have to get me anything,” he started, before Dante reached into his pocket and pulled out something bright and gold. Dante turned it over in his hand, staring down at the circular piece of metal.

“It was my grandfather’s,” he said in explanation, beckoning Nico closer until he could see a simple gold pocket watch, engraved with the initials _SLS_. “He left it for me when he died, and my father has been holding onto it for me since then. I wanted to give you something that meant a lot to me.” Dante held open Nico’s hand and pressed the now warm metal into his palm. “Would you keep it safe for me?”

Nico stared down at the watch, a piece of Dante he was being trusted to hold on to, and felt something inside him break just a little. “Yeah. I promise,” he whispered, closing his fingers around the warm metal before leaning forward on the balls of his feet to kiss Dante in the quiet comfort of the home they’d made for themselves.

0o0

It was sometime in early March that Nico finally identified the strange sensation occurring in his body – or rather, the lack of it.

He hadn’t been hungry in a long time.

Nico could remember only having enough money for a Happy Meal – and most of that went to offerings to summon ghosts – when he was eleven; he could remember with disturbing clarity the ridiculous sound his stomach made as it clenched when he was twelve and peering through a window at a huge, blue birthday cake; while he tried not to, he could still remember the taste of pomegranate seeds in his mouth and the feel of his body wasting away. The weeks following that harrowing experience had been difficult – his body had trouble accepting a great deal of food, so he’d stuck to grapes and maybe a few pieces of toast.

Moving in with Dante was probably one of the craziest things he’d ever done – and that was saying something – but it was probably also one of the best. Dante was a brilliant cook, and apparently his stretched, too-skinny frame made him look ill so his boyfriend and the rest of his family had taken it upon themselves to put him at a healthier weight. It hadn’t worked for a few months; Dante’s mother became increasingly frustrated with his stubbornly skinny body, but Nico was fairly certain his metabolism was still kicked up from when he was younger, so nothing stuck to him. Despite that, Dante – and sometimes his Mama – continued making loads of delicious food that he ate with gusto.

It was later that day though, still thinking about his lack of hunger, that Nico pulled off his shirt and looked at himself in the mirror; he didn’t do that very often because it reminded him of just how skinny he was, but he was astonished at what he found this time.

He’d started going to a fitness club about two months ago to keep himself busy outside of classes, and between that and Dante’s delicious food Nico could tell he’d started to gain some weight.

0o0

At one point, Dante had wondered why Nico never used elevators. One night in March, he finally discovered the reason, much to his horror.

0o0

Nico _never_ used the elevator.

At first it was just that he didn’t need to; when he was young he’d discovered his powers, and they had made elevators completely unnecessary – why use an elevator and wait when he could pull the shadows around himself and get to another place in record time?

After the jar and the giant twins, small spaces suddenly because a huge issue. He couldn’t stand inside an enclosed space without feeling out of breath or tense, and the tiny square footage of the rickety Italian elevators made his heart hammer like it wanted to snap his ribcage in half and made him sweat bullets.

Usually he somehow managed to get out of riding the elevator with Dante in their new apartment; it was only four floors up, so he could be coaxed into taking the stairs most of the time. Nico would make sure they left at different times on certain days to avoid the possibility of the elevator. This had worked for several months, until one day when their landlord finally decided to do some maintenance on the stairwell (after apparently ignoring the requests of an elderly couple on the second floor for nearly a year) that involved the whole staircase being blocked off for the maintenance crew.

By the time they learned about the closure, Nico and Dante had already made plans for dinner, and between Dante’s insistence that they ride his new Vespa to the restaurant and said maintenance, Dante urged Nico into the elevator. Numb and abjectly terrified, Nico went in and quietly pressed his back against the wall of the elevator. He could feel the blood draining from his face as Dante closed the gates and pressed the button, and then his hands started quaking.

The sharp corners bled into rounded, cold walls illuminated by Reaper’s soft purple glow, and the air in the compartment suddenly felt stale and foul as he was back in that awful place mentally, wondering if he was going t o die or not.

Nico gasped when his eyes flew open and Dante came into view, smiling reassuringly and holding his hand. He was saying something, something meant to anchor and reassure him, and Nico felt himself nodding and smiling weakly in return, his stomach clenching fiercely. Unsure of what else to do, he leaned into Dante’s side, using his warmth to push away the panicked thoughts crowding his head. The whole elevator ride lasted maybe a minute, but being trapped in the enclosed space with no place else to go made his assessment of time somewhat skewed.

The doors opened, and they went out to dinner without much of a fuss; Nico found himself gripping Dante’s hand like a vice whenever his mind wandered, so he tried to keep his focus on their dinner and talking with his boyfriend.

That night, Tartarus came back to life in his head, in excruciatingly vivid detail. It hadn’t been that bad since he was fourteen or fifteen, and yet the same horrific images came back to plague his dreams. He could hear the tortured screams and the mad cackling of monsters as they hunted him for sport; he could feel the liquid fire burning his throat, the claws digging into his skin as he fought them off one by one.

Nico woke up screaming, jerking violently out of Dante’s touch as fast as his body would allow; he scrambled away until he ended up toppling off of their bed, and then he went right for a corner in their room, his breath coming in dry, gasping heaves. He squeezed his eyes shut as a light snapped on, illuminating the dark room – but it was too much too soon, and Nico couldn’t bear the thought of opening up his eyes. His ears were filled with white noise, echoing with his own terrified screams.

At some point, the light turned off again and Nico thought it was safe to open his eyes again; the room was dark once more, illuminated only by the soft light filtering in from the window. Dante was on the floor, leaning back against the side of their bed, watching him warily from a safe distance – for both of them. Nico was shocked to find his boyfriend’s shirt ripped in a few places and to see the dark bruises under his glazed eyes, markers from a stressful lack of sleep. Nico stared, taking in each detail of Dante’s appearance – fighting down nausea on recognizing thin strips of red crossing his forearms and one across his jaw – as he slowly started to pull himself away from the ledge of hyperventilation. Nico’s fingers – red and torn – curled into the edges of a soft, warm blanket that had been wrapped around his shoulders; the fabric was so plush it was almost jarring.

“I’m so sorry,” Nico whispered, wincing at the wrecked quality of his voice. His throat felt so sore, like he’d been screaming bloody murder all night – which he likely had.

Dante blinked, his whole expression changing instantly. “You back with me now?”

“Yeah.”

Dante fidgeted uncomfortably, his expression turning pensive again. “You went somewhere dark. I couldn’t pull you out of it.”

“I hurt you,” Nico said numbly.

Dante, incredibly, shrugged. “You were having a panic attack. I should have known better than to touch you with no warning.”

“You couldn’t have known,” Nico murmured, closing his eyes and tilting his head back until it smacked against the wall, his breathing calming bit by bit now that he was aware of the world again. “It wasn’t something we discussed.”

“I’ve held you through nightmares before, Nico – but none of them were ever like this.”

“This was different. More vivid. Couldn’t escape.”

“Was this . . . did it have something to do with the elevator thing earlier?”

Nico tensed, his eyes squeezing shut. “Small, enclosed spaces take me back to things I’d rather not remember. Usually I’m pretty good at avoiding those situations.”

There was a long, pregnant pause, and when Nico opened his eyes again Dante looked crestfallen. “What?”

“I just – I wish you had said something. I didn’t realize it bothered you that much.”

“I didn’t really want to draw attention to it. I panicked.”

Dante fidgeted, just out of reach. “Can I come a little closer?” he asked, holding out his hand in the most non-threatening way possible. At Nico’s nod, Dante carefully, slowly, began to inch his way closer to where Nico was curled up defensively. He started by touching Nico’s hands, just the gentle caress of his fingertips along the bones in his hands, before traveling carefully up the lines of Nico’s wrists. Then his touch drew up Nico’s arms until he braced his hands at the top of his biceps, just holding him steady.

“I was so worried,” he heard Dante mumbled, his thumbs rubbing against Nico’s skin as if he was trying to reassure himself that Nico was real. “You wouldn’t stop screaming.”

“The landlord is probably going to complain,” Nico found himself snorting weakly.

“Sergio can go fuck himself, seriously,” Dante responded harshly. In total contrast to his tone, he slipped his arm around Nico’s shoulders with absolute care, inviting him closer. He wasn’t quite ready for that level of physical contact yet though, so he took comfort in the stability Dante’s arm around him offered; when he’d relaxed a little more, Nico shifted closer with more confidence, guiding Dante’s arms around his shoulders while pressing his back and shoulders to his boyfriend’s chest. Dante rested his chin on Nico’s shoulder, holding him in a comfortable but easily broken embrace, in case he wanted to escape again. He could feel the tension quickly bleeding from Dante’s body, almost as if it was collapsing under his own weight.

“Are you ok?”

Dante shrugged, making Nico wince. “I couldn’t go back to sleep, not after waking up with you shaking.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize. Just relax. Don’t go to class today, it’s too much. Stay home and rest. It’s been a long night,” he heard Dante whisper against the column of his neck as he drifted off.

He woke up again a few hours later to Dante combing his fingers through Nico’s hair and rubbing his scalp in soothing circles. Dante hadn’t moved beyond his arms, still holding him in a comforting embrace that soothed his nerves.

“You want to move to the bed?” Dante asked quietly. “I can make you some tea or soup, and we can just have a lazy day at home before I have to leave for work.”

“Have I ever told you that you’re awesome?” Nico mumbled through a smile. “Because that’s not the whole truth. You’re _the best_ ,” he said with feeling, and Dante gave him a brief squeeze. “Tell me I get to keep you.”

Dante was quiet after that, but only for a few moments. He dipped his head and kissed the exposed skin where Nico’s neck met his shoulder. “You already know the answer to that.”

(They didn’t really talk about Nico’s nightmare after he settled and Dante’s Mama arrived to make him a meal consisting totally of comfort food. Instead it became almost a guideline: if Nico was starting to feel anxious or uncomfortable in a situation, Dante would pull him aside discreetly to check in and see how he was coping. Usually Nico gave him a reassuring smile, but on one other occasion Dante had made their excuses following a hushed “March” making its way to his ear.)

0o0

Some days Nico sat alone in their apartment and wondered if he could have ever imagined this reality for himself.

He knew that if he could talk to himself as a teenager, could describe the life he might get to lead, that his much younger self would probably laugh right in his face. The person he was at fourteen had been damaged and cynical, heartbroken and harsh, dragging the weight of his unwanted feelings for Percy _fucking_ Jackson until it nearly crushed his hope for future happiness.

Now Nico might describe himself as cautiously optimistic – and even occasionally very happy; there wasn’t much room for heartbreak anymore, and that gaping maw was slowly being replaced by a feeling of contentment that he blamed entirely on Dante.

Nico also marked the changes in his perspectives on touch as something that was heavily influenced by his boyfriend. They’d begun their friendship with a general understanding that touch was something Nico really only granted to people he trusted, and over the course of nearly a year Nico came to trust the other man more than most; dating was simply a longer, slightly more involved step, but Dante never once pushed him on the matter and let Nico set the pace of their physical affections. Nico had not expected himself to enjoy it as much as he did, but after more or less giving Dante blanket permission to touch him, he felt more at ease, more relaxed in their new home. Dante would wake up and pull him close, nuzzling under his chin and laying dry, raspy kisses to his skin; he would wash Nico’s hair on the occasions they showered together, giving him a scalp massage in the process; when they read or watched movies, Dante would either spoon with him or he might pull Nico’s legs over his thighs, tracing patterns on his kneecaps and shins.

Sex was something Nico was still working on. He trusted Dante enough to give him blanket permission for touch and really enjoyed the things they did together, but sometimes it was still a little hard for him to completely wrap his mind around the things they did. Arousal and desire didn’t always make sense to Nico, even if he understood that they were a part of attraction to most people.

Their first experience had been prior to Christmas, and after that it was nearly three more months before things became more intense between them. There had been some experimentation here and there, learning how to touch to elicit the right kind of response which developed into cautious hand jobs and later, blowjobs. Those were still overwhelming for Nico, because the three times he’d caught glimpses of Dante’s lips wrapped around his shaft, bobbing over his lap while the dark curls of his hair swept over Nico’s belly had sent him into sensory overload. Reciprocating was far more daunting, but Dante’s patience and guidance had helped him work through the nerves enough that they were both more than sated in the end. The second impetus for change was in equal parts Nico’s stunned curiosity and Dante’s somewhat ill-timed impatience.

It was a story Nico now thought was utterly hysterical, but at the time he’d been overwhelmed and shocked. There had been a paper to finish and pass in, and Nico left the apartment for a short while to take care of that. Dante, apparently, had assumed that he would be gone for twice as long considering bus routes and waiting for said bus, because when Nico shadow traveled to and from his professor’s office he found the main living spaces of the apartment empty. Frowning, Nico had sought Dante out, first glancing into the bathroom before pushing the door of their bedroom open – only to find his boyfriend in a rather interesting position. He’d been in the middle of calling Dante’s name, and the last syllable got drawn out in his surprise. He knew Dante had a collection of toys that he used occasionally, and while Nico had never really found them interesting himself he didn’t begrudge Dante for using them.

He’d just never actually _seen_ Dante use one of them – and as such he wasn’t expecting the effect it would have on him.

0o0

It was completely logical in Dante’s mind that his thought process would jump to sex and what sex would be like with Nico after his boyfriend loosened his rules on touching; he figured that they’d become comfortable enough with each other and developed a great deal of trust, and after pushing Nico’s boundaries with oral sex – and witnessing what Nico looked like when he orgasmed – Dante didn’t see any problem with fantasizing what sex would be like. He wasn’t going to push Nico to participate in something he wasn’t ready for yet, but Dante sometimes couldn’t help but give in to his rather overactive imagination.

Nico was still a little iffy on the idea of penetrative sex – at least, that was what Dante perceived in talking with him – so he tried to keep his fantasies to himself for the most part.

It didn’t stop really awkward situations from happening, though – especially when Dante decided to tempt the fates while Nico was out on an errand.

Nico left one afternoon to go hand a paper in, and knowing that he had some time Dante decided to make use of his afternoon in a different way.

He laid back on his side of their bed, naked and half hard, and began working a lubricated dildo into himself. Dante didn’t do this very often – it was a bit time consuming, so he didn’t always feel the need to use the dildo to bring himself off, and doing it with Nico there or in the other room just seemed like a shitty thing to do. This was part of the fantasy, though; Nico was fucking him, pressing inside slow and deep. The whole thought process was tantalizing: how would Nico behave, how would he feel as he was pushing into him? Nico wasn’t a very aggressive person in or out of bed, and he usually let Dante lead their experimentations because he didn’t really know what to do – but Nico always maintained a higher level of control than Dante would have been able to. He rarely ever truly let go of his fears and anxieties, even when Dante had his mouth wrapped around his dick, and that need for control was the inspiration behind the fantasy. Nico needed to be in control of the situation, and it just seemed logical for Nico to top the first time; it was a position of control, and Dante could support him when he needed it.

Dante chewed on his lip as he pushed the toy deep, a small groan escaping his throat, and he began to set a slow rhythm for himself. He shifted his hips, trying to find the best angle while letting his mind conjure up a scene. Nico was on top of him, their foreheads pressed together as they gasped, coming together in more ways than one; Nico’s body was warm, so very warm, and his arms shook with the effort to keep himself stabilized and grounded amongst the intense pleasure. Nico was rolling his hips, his breath ghosting against Dante’s lips and cheek – and in his mind Dante watched, hopelessly turned on now, as Nico’s eyes fluttered shut and his lips parted in a moan.

That was when the real, flesh and blood Nico walked in and shattered the fantasy. “Danteeee-oh,” he said, his voice stalling towards the end of his name and cutting off with a small sound of recognition.

“Fuck,” Dante hissed as the fantasy broke and he realized the position Nico had just caught him in. He felt completely frozen on the spot, still reaching between his legs to press the dildo in as deep as he could, and his arms were totally unwilling to move. Frozen, his whole body on display mid-masturbation. “Um. Hi,” he choked out.

Nico didn’t move either. He stared, dark eyes wide and twitching to various parts of him – his long, spread legs and the stiff erection between said legs, his hand on the base of the toy, the whole of his naked body, just taking in the sight beforehand. If he had to put a name to his expression, Dante probably would have called it ‘traumatized.’

“Well, this is awkward,” Dante huffed, his cheeks coloring spectacularly. He still couldn’t force his body to do anything about the compromising position he’d just been caught in.

“You’ve got a,” Nico muttered, gesturing vaguely to Dante’s crotch. “A thing. Oh my gods.” A deep red flush creeped back onto his cheeks and neck, his embarrassment at an all-time high.

Another incredibly unfortunate thing happened then: the vibration feature on the dildo, which had been set on a basic timer, went off. In the deafening silence, the low-pitched buzzing sound could be heard easily, and the sensation of the dildo vibrating inside him sent a wave of pleasure through him; Dante barely caught the whimper before it left his mouth and bit down on his lip. A small, high-pitched sound still escaped.

And Nico’s eyes got impossibly wider. They were as wide as plates now, and his focus on Dante’s crotch was getting kind of uncomfortable. Dante didn’t know whether he should ask Nico to go or to pull the dildo out and try to cover himself. Which was better or worse? Was there a way to remedy the situation without causing even more trauma?

Then Nico took a step forward, and Dante felt all the air leave his lungs in one fell swoop.

Then he took another, and another, until Nico was standing right beside the bed – and he lifted one knee up to climb in beside Dante, who definitely did not make any sort of odd, strangled sound as he felt the bed dip.

Nico froze, halfway on the bed. “Do you want me to go?” he asked, his voice strained and husky.

Dante shook his head, quietly panicking that Nico was apparently going to join him. He thought his chest was going to split just from the force of his heartbeat against his breast bone. It was hammering away, thundering as Nico clambered up onto the bed and laid down on his side, pressed against Dante’s tense body. He propped himself up on an elbow and rested his other hand across Dante’s chest, frowning a little when he felt his elevated heart rate.

“Are you ok?” he asked softly.

“I have a dildo up my ass and the guy I was fantasizing about just decided to lie down beside me,” Dante said, bemused. “Does that count as ok?”

Nico flushed and looked away, tracing strands of black hair across his chest. “Fantasizing about me while . . .” he gestured vaguely, apparently unsure of how to phrase a description. “That’s . . . new.”

“Uh, speaking of which, if you’re going to stay I’m going to keep going.” His stalling was actually starting to get pretty uncomfortable, considering he was straining to keep himself still and focus on his boyfriend now that he’d arrived. At Nico’s nod, Dante stretched his arm again down between his legs to maneuver the toy; as he pressed it in again and stuttered out a soft sound, Nico leaned in close and whispered, “Are you really thinking about me when you do that?”

Dante chewed on his lip, forcing down a groan at his boyfriend’s hushed question, laden with suggestiveness and curiosity. He managed to force his head to nod, and the pleased sound from his mouth was an added bonus of his honesty.

Nico pulled him into a kiss, his calloused palm and fingers against his cheek, and Dante moaned into his mouth when he felt Nico's tongue slip past his lips. That sent a rush of desire through him becsue it nearly completed the fantasy, made it even more real with the weight of his body pressed close. And Nico was interested, if not totally ready to get naked. Dante didn't want to push him too fast, but clearly something was changing for him that Dante wasn't sure he could name.

They stayed like this, just kissing and touching, gathering confidence, until Nico's hand strayed down his torso, following the trail of course black hair down from his navel to the base of his cock. Dante gasped, breaking the kiss to stare wide-eyed at Nico. His pupils were blown, all traces of nervousness or uncertainty gone, and still holding his gaze he wrapped his fingers around the shaft, drawing a whine from Dante's throat.

By all accounts, it shouldn’t have been that hot; they’d done this before, exploring tentatively and bringing each other off with their hands and mouths – so maybe it was the addition of the toy, or that Dante had been masturbating when Nico joined him, but the energy between them had changed. Something deep and dark had sparked in Nico’s bottomless gaze, and suddenly his kisses felt more confident and assured, leaving Dante holding on to him for dear life.

“What were you thinking about?”

“You fucking me,” Dante answered immediately, completely oblivious to Nico’s shock.

“Really?” Nico almost demanded, sounding unsure.

“Fuck yeah,” he mumbled lazily, rubbing Nico’s obnoxiously clothed thigh. “That’d be amazing.”

Nico snorted, but it sounded half-hearted. “I’d have no idea what I was doing,” he whispered, his fingers slotting in the indentations of Dante’s ribs.

“Learning is the best part, though,” Dante countered, grinning when Nico’s touch grew more confident and bolder.

“I’d want it to be good for you, though.”

“You’d make it so good for me,” Dante whispered back, all in hushed tones.

Nico blushed spectacularly, his face and neck all flushing a deep shade of red. He opened his mouth ineffectually a few times, but ultimately snapped his mouth shut because he was unsure what to say. Instead he relaxed into his voyeuristic role, his gaze moving from place to place all over his skin, watching intently while Dante refocused on bringing himself off. It was hard to tell whether Nico was actually interested in what was happening, or if he was simply too stunned and shocked to move or tear his gaze away. He was still watching when Dante orgasmed minutes later, his eyes dark and intense as they raked over his body, chewing on his lower lip unconsciously. Nico remained there, his body rigid like a stone, for another few moments before silently slipping off the bed and back into the hall – leaving Dante confused and crestfallen.

After the very awkward – and extremely hot – incident with the vibrating dildo, Nico behaved rather strangely for the next few days. He was quiet, and if he chanced upon Dante in his underwear or without his shirt he’d go completely red and excuse himself. Dante couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ruined everything – by letting Nico witness him masturbating, or by admitting that he was thinking about Nico as he did it.

Three days later, Dante was sitting on the couch in their living room studying for an exam when Nico came in, and he had to do a double-take because _holy shit_ Nico was clad only in his boxers, and he was pushing Dante’s books out of the way purposefully. Dante leaned back, shocked and in awe as Nico straddled his thighs, framing his hips with his knees.

“So what are we going to do about this?” Nico asked, gesturing vaguely to the very visible tent in his boxers.

“We?”

“Yes.”

“You want-“

“You,” Nico answered swiftly, cutting him off smoothly. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Oh my God,” Dante breathed, tossing the rest of his books and papers out of the way without a second thought. “I thought I’d scared you off.”

Nico shook his head. “Just overwhelmed.”

Dante laughed and dragged Nico’s face closer for a kiss that lit a fire in his lower belly, desire spilling out into the rest of his torso and limbs as the kiss took on a life of its own. He felt possessed by Nico’s mouth and hands, urging him on past where they’d been comfortable before. He felt, in every taut muscle and clenching tendon, the want coursing through Nico’s body; he’d waited for so long for Nico to reciprocate, and he could barely believe that it was finally, actually happening. Dante pulled him in close, pressing their bodies together and reveling in the feel of bare skin under his hands; there had only been a few times over the last several months that they’d engaged in anything quite like this, so Dante relished the opportunity to touch Nico’s skin and relearn all of the marks that crisscrossed his body. Nico, meanwhile, was starting to get impatient as he tried to tug Dante’s shirt off over his head without breaking the kiss.

Smirking a little to himself, Dante pushed Nico away, just far enough that he had space to strip his shirt off and toss it behind the couch for retrieval later – however in the process Dante managed to smack Nico in the face with his wrist. Nico made an indignant noise and flailed back, glaring mutinously.

“Oh my God,” Dante breathed, eyes wide and his arms frozen in place. “I am so sorry, that was supposed to be really sexy and I totally just ruined everything, I am the worst.”

Nico’s face screwed up and he snorted, his mask of outrage transforming into one of mirth as he broke into laughter. He curled his body over Dante’s, dipping in to kiss him fully. Dante lost himself in the kiss, his hands roaming all over Nico’s back before settling on the swell of his ass and between his sharp shoulder blades. Nico was all sharp bones and warm skin under his hands, and Dante still felt lost every few moments because his boyfriend was actively engaged in this, was seeking out his touch almost aggressively: long, bony fingers had a firm grip on his jaw and the hair at the back of his skull, and Nico started rolling his hips, chasing the pleasure he found between their bodies.

Dante’s brain ran wild when he wasn’t lost in the sensations, trying to figure out how they were going to do this and whether or not he had the mental capacity to speak the words; they hadn’t discussed penetrative sex much at all, aside from the vaguely disastrous accidental voyeurism incident, and the last intelligent brain cell in his head worked overtime to remind him that talking was absolutely a thing that needed to happen to get them through this unscathed and without second thoughts. Nico, by nature of his position and his possession of Dante’s mouth, was making this harder than it should be.

“Hey,” he tried to say, but the word was muffled by Nico’s mouth. He tried again, pulling away from his boyfriend’s mouth just enough to make out the word. “We should talk before we do this. Can we talk?” Dante had to rush through the words, because he was fairly certain Nico hadn’t really taken his eyes off of Dante’s lips for the duration. “My eyes are up here.”

Nico flinched, and nodded. “Sorry.”

Dante grinned, feeling drunk on something that hovered between lust and desire as he nudged Nico’s hips so he could settle and try to get his words through. “This – this is a pretty big step for us, isn’t it?”

Nico hedged from his position straddling Dante’s hips, his eyes unfocusing for a short period; then he set his jaw and nodded again. “I think I’m ready. I want to do this.”

Dante felt his heart skip a few beats, and it took him a few seconds to recover from the feeling of weightlessness in his belly. “Are you totally sure?”

Nico raised one dark eyebrow briefly, before his expression calmed and softened and he nodded confidently.

“Ok,” Dante breathed. “Ok. How do you want to do this?” The only other time they’d even remotely discussed something like this had been after the accidental voyeurism incident, when he’d admitted to thinking about Nico – but there were other options on the table, and Dante just hoped he knew that.

He watched as Nico’s eyes widened in realization then narrowed, like they always did whenever he got an idea in his head. Dante always thought it made him look much more mischievous and sexy, though he’d probably never admit that out loud. Nico didn’t take complements very well, so he was fairly certain that a comment like that might even embarrass him.

Nico chewed on his lip for a moment before finally coming to a decision. He breathed in and out through his nose, the movement drawing Dante’s hands up to settle his fingers in the notches between his ribs. “I know you had one thing in mind,” he muttered, and Dante felt his cheeks color at the memory, “but I think I’d maybe like it the other way this time?”

“You want to trust me with that?” Dante asked quietly after a beat.

“Yeah. We can try the other way another time.”

“Alright then. Officially moving this to the bedroom,” Dante huffed, forcing Nico off his lap so he could get up and tug him down the short hall towards their bedroom. They landed in a tangled pile of limbs, still kissing and wrapped around each other tightly, before Nico rolled them to the side, pinning Dante to the bed with a feral grin. Dante gaped a little at the sight; he had made plans to take his time the first time they did this, but it seemed that Nico, for now, had other ideas.

Eventually Dante got him to slow down and savor each touch and new sensation, and just in time; as things got more heated between them, Nico wavered between desire and anxiety, exhibiting enough of the latter that Dante began pausing before trying something different to ask how he was, whether he liked what was happening, or if he wanted to stop. Nico seemed to appreciate the pauses in their activities at first, until he became more relaxed and promised that he would speak up if something bothered him. Then he flipped them over again, settling over Dante’s hips and mirroring their earlier positions – this time with considerably more bare skin.

0o0

There’s a moment, sometime after their slow kisses took a more passionate and intense turn and just before he braced himself, straddling Dante’s hips and guiding the head of his erection inside, that Nico realizes he’s actually reached his breaking point. There is actually no one else he would rather be with in that moment – there’s no one else in his head, no lingering voices or memories of the last person he carried feelings for. Nico thought that maybe it had actually been that way for a little while, but he hadn’t really thought about it – much less spoken of it. There was power in actions as well as words, but words normally failed him in one way or the other, so Nico settled with trying to show just how much their hard-won trust and affection meant to him with the movement of his body. With each roll of his hips Dante looked wrecked, like each gesture was paring his walls down until the moment Nico would carve his name into the bones over his heart.

Later, when Dante was massaging his sore thighs and calves in the aftermath, he couldn’t stop the happy, contented feeling welling in his chest from making itself known in the form of a grin.

(It didn’t even occur to him to tell Dante about his heritage and demigods until hours later, when he was lying awake with his cheek pillowed in Dante’s curls, his boyfriend snoring softly against his neck. The initial bout of nausea that usually followed in the wake of thinking about revealing who he really was didn’t last long though, and it got pushed away in favor of curling around Dante and wrapping his arms around him before falling asleep himself.)

0o0

After some careful and secretive research, Nico presented two Eurail passes to Dante for his birthday in May. They had started to discuss the possibility of traveling together in April, when spring downpours kept them inside for long periods of time until they were both beset by cabin fever. Nico had really only seen and remembered Venice and some of Rome, while Dante had only ever traveled as far as the eastern-most islands of Venice as part of a school trip when he was younger – so the idea of getting to explore Italy and maybe even parts of Europe for the first time together was particularly enticing for Nico. He’d managed to get permission from Hazel, which allowed him to remain undetected as he moved about the continent. There had been a lot of stress and nerves surrounding the presentation of his gift, but the ecstatic look in Dante’s eyes more than made up for it.

Once they recovered from Dante’s birthday celebrations, they unfolded a map of the Eurail trains and marked possible destinations within the cities cited by the pass. Despite all his research, Nico hadn’t been sure at all what to get so in the end he bought the most inclusive package, which allowed them to go to thirteen cities throughout continental Europe, allowing them to explore at their leisure. The only place Nico firmly refused to explore was Greece; it was the only country Hazel couldn’t protect him in, and Nico was afraid of the memories that would be brought back to the surface if they tried to wander there.

He couldn’t keep Dante from seeing Rome for the first time, though. That was one of the few Italian cities that Dante desperately wanted to see, and despite the dark memories certain areas conjured in Nico’s mind he decided that he would put his anxieties aside for that stop.

Nico was unused to traveling the same way as other mortals were. The concept of packing everything he might possibly need, from several sets of clothes to portable chargers for mobile devices was nearly lost on him. The closest he’d ever come to doing something like this was back when he was fourteen and transporting the Athena Parthenos back to Camp Half-Blood on Long Island. That had taken an excruciating amount of time and had caused him to have several near-breakdowns along the way. This trip, he hoped, would not have the same result.

They went to Barcelona first, then took a train north through the French countryside into Paris; Dante documented as much of their travels as he could, and while at first Nico had shied away from the camera – content to take the pictures while Dante posed excitedly in front of a landmark – Dante pulled Nico into the frame of one of the pictures at the top of the Eiffel Tower. Nico felt distinctly uncomfortable being in the picture, but Dante insisted that it was his favorite yet because it would be proof that he wasn’t on the trip alone. They went to Munich after that, and Nico joined Dante in more of their pictures.

There was an older couple that seemed to be backpacking the same route that they were taking, and while Nico was suspicious of them at first – he could tell they were watching him sometimes, but when he looked over they were always huddled together, speaking in hushed French – but they never once made any threatening moves towards them. Instead, as Nico and Dante were headed on a train south back into Italy the woman approached them, smiling as she explained in halting English to Nico that they were getting on the train bound for Luxembourg instead of Venice. Then she handed him a set of four Polaroids – likely taken with the camera around her neck – before doubling back to her husband.

Nico fanned the pictures out in his hands, and his heart got lodged in his throat. They were four snapshots of him and Dante from a slight distance, and yet they seemed to capture some wonderfully intimate moments while they were unaware.

One was an angled view of them curled up under a blanket in their train seats, their heads tilted in towards each other as they talked quietly, their legs and feet crisscrossed and braced against the seats in front of them. Nico had never seen such a soft expression on his own face, and wondered where on earth that came from. Another depicted Dante giving Nico a piggyback ride down a boulevard in Paris. The third showed Nico asleep, his jaw hanging open slightly while his head was propped against Dante’s shoulder and Dante stared at something warily, like he was keeping watch over his sleeping boyfriend. The last was a kiss that Nico had been so sure no one had seen, yet there it was, captured on film and immortalized. They’d skirted off the main road into an alley because Nico had gotten a bad feeling about some of the people in town and how they might view his and Dante’s relationship, and their only options were to wait until they were back in the safety and privacy of their room or find a place with relative privacy. It had definitely been a gamble, but it had been worth every second of it.

Feeling numb and slightly warm with happiness, Nico handed them to Dante, who was speechless when he saw what the pictures had captured.

They continued through the hilltop cities, making stops at Siena and Assisi before taking a weeklong break from travel in Florence. All along the way, Italian _lares_ watched him warily, never once seeking them out. Nico was perfectly happy to leave them alone; the last thing he wanted to do was incite indignation from a group of unforgiving ghosts. Florence, meanwhile, was a huge space to explore with beautiful museums and architecture on every corner. All the walking and exploration they did over the course of the day wore both of them out to the point where even Nico managed to fall into a dead sleep for several hours of the night. He’d had trouble falling asleep in each of their hotels or trains since the trip started – unfamiliar places made him nervous, and he found it difficult to trust their surroundings enough for a deeper sleep – but sleep came quickly, for at least a few hours, after a long day wandering and sight-seeing.

When he woke up in the middle of the night, Dante almost always continued slumbering. Usually, the other man was an incredibly light sleeper. It came with the territory of having several brothers and sisters, because sleeping lighter meant that there was less of a chance for them to sneak up and surprise him in his sleep. During their nights in Florence though, Dante could not be woken before eight or nine in the morning. It simply wasn’t possible.

On the third night, when Nico snapped awake after a brisk but deep four hours of sleep, he performed the same action he had been since they arrived: he stripped down to his boxers and grabbed Dante’s left arm and leg, dragging him lengthwise onto the bed before gently setting his head on the pillow left for them – the action usually caused his boyfriend to snore loudly or groan in displeasure. Then Nico tugged the blanket out from beneath Dante’s body and draped it over him, watching as Dante settled into the warmth and adjusted his position. Nico slipped off the bed again and rummaged for his book in the dark before turning a dim light on and climbing back in beside Dante. He read with his back against the headboard, and eventually Dante gravitated back towards his body heat, sleeping with his face pressed into the flesh of his thigh and his arm hugging Nico’s leg.

0o0

Dante was beginning to wonder if this whole trip was too good to be true. He really couldn’t believe at first that Nico had spent that kind of money on a present, and when he’d blurted something like that to his boyfriend Nico had simply started chuckling to himself. It was ‘money well spent,’ he said, and reminded Dante of the conversations they’d had about seeing the world beyond the Venetian coast. They went to Barcelona, Paris and Versailles, Amsterdam, Berlin, and Prague, all before getting on a train bound for Florence by way of Venice. The pictures from the other couple had been a bonus birthday treat that Dante tucked into his wallet for safekeeping.

The city he was most excited to see however was undoubtedly Rome. Dante had heard about the Eternal City all the time growing up, and his (mostly) strict Catholic upbringing was centered on the power and prestige of Vatican City. He was beyond ecstatic that he would finally get to explore St. Peter’s, and even the Vatican Museum.

His excitement didn’t stop him from noticing that Nico’s smile had become strained and pinched, like it was being forced onto his face for Dante’s sake. It started when they were walking through the center of Rome – Nico’s whole countenance shifted, like he was dragging under his own weight to keep himself going. He looked pale and uncertain when they came up to the Victor Emmanuel monument, his gaze keeping to the monument itself and nothing else. Dante didn’t say anything at first, but when Nico’s mood didn’t improve throughout the day – despite their terrific lunch at an iconic Roman pizzeria and the gelato they’d gotten afterwards – he started trying to draw the source of his mood out of Nico.

Nico merely gave him a wan smile, and suggested that they keep walking so they could get to the church displaying two Caravaggio paintings in one of their chapels.

(He couldn’t know that all Nico wanted to do was get out of there so he didn’t have to think about how, years before, he had screamed himself hoarse while the boy he had feelings for let go and fell into Tartarus while Nico reached for him.)

Once they left, Nico’s spirits seemed to lift slightly. Dante was glad to have him back, and chalked his sour mood up to exhaustion. They spent the rest of the evening shopping and scouring the streets for a good place to eat dinner before Dante convinced Nico to go to the Ice Bar. After several drinks they made their way back to their hotel, flopping heavily on the bed and kissing messily until they fell asleep.

Sometime during the night, Dante woke to the sounds of whimpering somewhere nearby. As he forced himself awake, he clearly heard Nico pleading for his life in pained whispers. He'd always been a light sleeper - it kept his brothers from pulling any pranks on him in his sleep - and so the second Nico spoke in louder than a whisper, Dante rolled over to wake him up and found Nico curled up in a tight ball, his jaw set in a deep, troubling frown as he dreamed. He reached out and gently rubbed Nico's shoulder. His boyfriend jolted at the touch, yelping a little as he was forced back into reality; his eyes flew open, shifting restlessly around the room until his gaze finally rested on Dante.

"You're ok," Dante said softly, rubbing his arm in comforting circles. "I'm right here, you're safe." Very slowly, he felt the tension release in his body until Nico began to uncurl from his tight ball, his breathing steadying and coming easier.

He'd experienced far worse nightmares; this wasn't too horrible in there grand scheme of things, at much Dante knew. He'd woken to Nico screaming once, back in March; he'd been nearly inconsolable for an hour and after that, Dante hadn't been allowed to touch him without inciting a panic. That had been a horrifically draining, stressful night that had left Dante feeling helpless in the face of Nico's terror. He hadn't been able to help - he'd only made it worse when he tried to offer comfort. Those attacks didn't happen often, luckily - only once in the four months they'd been sharing a bed had it occurred.

It only made Dante more anxious and curious in a worried way, because he just wanted to know what the hell had happened to his boyfriend to make him so afraid, to make him dream of things that left him whimpering and begging for his life. Who had hurt him, who had tortured him like that?

Dante pushed that aside for a moment though, as Nico started pulling on his wrist, tugging him closer and whispering "please" under his breath. He tugged Nico in roughly, pulling him to his chest and wrapping his arms around Nico's shoulders. Nico buried his face in Dante's chest, taking deep, shuddering breaths that he felt against his skin. "I've got you," he whispered into his hair, letting his soft, thick hair tickle his nose. "You're safe."

Nico clutched at Dante’s arms and shoulders tightly, fingernails scratching across his skin as he heaved in dry sobs against Dante’s bare skin. He kept whispering quiet, almost nonsensical words of comfort, anything to ease the shuddering in his body. It was a long time before Nico’s breathing returned to normal and the tension bled out of him, leaving him exhausted and pliant in Dante’s hands. He did everything he knew of to bring him back around, stroking Nico’s hair and the length of his back and rubbing in circles across his shoulders. “You with me now?” he murmured softly, rubbing the back of Nico’s scalp reassuringly.

Nico nodded, his face still pressed into Dante’s chest. He was clutching Dante’s shirt, his arms curled up awkwardly between their bodies.

“That one was pretty bad, huh?”

“Understatement,” was the word Nico huffed against his chest.

"Want to tell me about it?" he asked. It was the first time he’d prodded about Nico’s nightmares; they weren’t something that happened regularly, but they happened often enough that Dante noticed their increased frequency. Perhaps he was taking advantage of Nico's openness or his vulnerability, but he wanted to know what was going on in his head.

Nico shuddered. "Trapped. I w-was suffocating, thought I was going to die."

Dante felt something in his chest clench horribly. "This was like the one in March. Has that....has that happened to you?" That was too vivid a dream for it to be based in his imagination. Nico gave a minute nod against his chest, and Dante wanted to cry. Nico had never spoken of this. “When?”

“Ages ago now,” Nico sniffed.

"What happened?"

"Percy came," he exhaled, and Dante frowned. He’d heard the name here and there, but not really at all in the last few months, and he’d been fairly happy for that. Percy was the guy Nico had loved and given up years ago, having never told him his feelings. Nico had relayed a few stories that honestly didn’t paint this faceless other man in the best light, though Nico clearly had been trying to downplay his assholish behavior in the stories. Percy, the same guy who spread lies about him and hurt him, had saved his life? "Percy saved me."

Dante’s mouth twisted; he really didn’t know what to do with that information. He didn’t know anything about Percy beyond what Nico told him, so he decided he had to be at least thankful to the guy if that was truly what happened. “You’ve definitely had that dream before, then,” he commented instead.

Nico shrugged. “I used to have nightmares about it constantly – not as much anymore, though.”

“Would you like some water?” he asked, rubbing soothing circles between Nico’s shoulder blades.

Nico shook his head again. “Just . . . keep doing that. It feels good.”

Dante kept rubbing Nico’s back and shoulders until he fell asleep again, while Dante pushed away lingering and confused thoughts about his boyfriend’s difficult relationship with this stranger.

0o0

Beatrice came into their lives barely two days after they arrived home from the last stop in Montenegro; it was the longest haul, and Nico wasn’t ashamed to admit that he spent most of the train ride sleeping despite the picturesque countryside. They spent their first days home unpacking and sleeping, content to be homebodies until Dante’s older sister Caterina buzzed their apartment, saying she had Dante’s birthday gift.

By the time she left an hour later, Nico had been wishing he’d never answered the buzzer at all.

Rina had adopted a cat in their name, and brought it over for its first ‘meet the parents’ gathering – and Nico could barely contain his frustration.

It wasn’t that Nico disliked cats. He didn’t mind them really, some were beautiful and majestic creatures that he could admire from afar. The problem was that cats could sense his direct connection with the dead, and they invariably hissed murderously at him and scratched him if he came too close.

To make matters even more frightening, Rina extracted an enormous long-haired gray beast from the carrier instead of a kitten, like Nico had hoped. She said it was a Maine Coon mix of some kind, and he knew that those were supposed to be one of the largest breeds of domesticated cats. She – Beatrice, that is – was already quite tall and weighed almost twenty pounds, and the second she was placed in front of Nico and Dante she hissed and batted at Nico before leaping on to Dante’s shoulders, perching herself there to watch Nico warily.

“She’ll grow to like you, I’m sure,” Rina said, though her confidence had disappeared largely.

“She’s just nervous,” Dante grinned, scratching behind Beatrice’s ears gently. Of course Dante would warm up to the cat immediately, Nico grumbled to himself.

Beatrice seemed content to follow the sun spots across the floor and to sunbathe in the window most of the time, especially after Dante – a newly-minted and already dutiful cat dad – purchased a set of climbing perches for her to use. She stayed away from Nico – for which he was wholly relieved – as much as she could, though at night she still tried to find a place on Dante’s side of the bed to curl up and glower at them. Sometimes they woke up to find her sprawled, all twenty pounds of cat, taking up a generous corner of the bed, which was a little annoying. Eventually Nico decided that they’d settled into a mostly accepting, mildly antagonistic relationship: he fed her when Dante was away, and she didn’t hiss when he came near; he tossed a catnip toy in her direction, and she didn’t try to claw his face off; she grudgingly allowed him in her presence, but he never tried to make a move to touch her. They were fine that way.

It was all progress, really.

0o0

Nico wasn’t sure why, but after they came home from their vacation things seemed unsettled. Part of it might have had something to do with the new addition in the house, but there was something else going on as well. There was a nervous feeling building slowly in his gut, and he couldn’t place its origin for the life of him. He and Dante were doing well despite some occasional snits about Beatrice, and seemed more in sync than before – but Nico couldn’t help the strange feeling he was starting to get that something was about to go horribly wrong. It was like watching a storm brew on the horizon – he could see the dark clouds and could feel the electricity building in the air, but he had no events to connect it to. Hazel’s protections were remarkable in that way, because they kept him sheltered from the great majority of dangers that demigods would face in the open, particularly in Greece and Italy.

When the dreams started, Nico felt partially relieved until he realized that something sinister really was brewing. Demigod dreams were always intense, but he knew for a fact that the dreams he, Percy, and Jason had were many times more visceral and damaging than the others. Nico hadn’t had one of _those_ dreams in a long time, thanks in part to being under Hazel’s protection and in the Underworld beforehand. There had been no whispers of gods or titans or giants wreaking havoc in the last six years, which was an incredible blessing for him.

Over the course of several weeks, Nico had a handful of these dreams. He watched through a clouded lens as a blurry, spindly blond figure planned something – but each dream seemed to last only a few seconds as the figure realized he was being watched and waved his hands, cutting off the connection abruptly, leaving Nico suddenly wide awake in the middle of the night, panting and sweating while Dante looked over at him, sleepy and confused with his sleep-mussed curls lying flat on one side.

The third time it happened, Nico dragged himself out of bed while Beatrice watched him with baleful green eyes – careful not to wake Dante this time – and left the apartment to call Hazel.

“Is something happening over there?” he demanded right away, as soon as Hazel’s sleepy face appeared before his.

“What are you talking about?” she groused, rubbing her forehead.

“Have there been any prophecies, any weird occurrences? Something we should be worried about?”

Hazel leveled him with a glare, and Nico felt himself whither under her harsh gaze when he remembered that he really hadn’t called her just to chat and catch up in a long time. Several months, in fact. _Shit._

“You wanted out, Nico. That means you don’t suddenly get to decide you want in, or that you only get to be in on certain things.”

“I’ve been having dreams,” he said urgently. “Just had the third one now, someone’s working in secret on something.”

“No one else has reported any dreams,” she countered, raising an eyebrow. “Not even Jason or Percy, and you remember how paranoid he is.”

Nico blinked. _Not really_ , he wanted to say, because he never really thought of Percy as being paranoid, but . . . maybe he could see that. “I guess.”

“I’ll look into it. It might be nothing, or you could be glimpsing something. Have you . . . I’m sorry, but have you tried calling the other two? To see if they’re having the same dreams?”

Nico shifted uncomfortably. “No, no I didn’t. But if you haven’t heard anything . . . it’s probably just my imagination. Forget about it.”

Hazel kept the connection going. “How was your trip?”

Nico started at the abrupt change of subject, but recovered quickly. “It was really great. We had a lot of fun traveling together. Thank you for your help in that.”

“I’m glad. I think you guys needed a little vacation.”

Nico hesitated, his hands moving restlessly in his own nervousness. “I’m sorry for not being better at keeping in touch. Sometimes I forget that this isn’t the life I’ve led for years.”

Hazel’s gaze sharpened. “Have you told Dante yet? About who you are?”

“No,” Nico groaned miserably. “I think about it, but then I can never make my mouth say the words.”

“Nico, you need to tell him. It’s not really an option – I won’t be able to hold the magic protecting you forever, so you really need to tell him everything before the choice gets taken away from you by a monster or another demigod. It’s neither safe nor fair for him, and it’s definitely not safe for you.”

Wincing as each word rang true in his ears, Nico swallowed down a rising swell of nausea at the thought of trying to sit down and explain everything to his boyfriend. He knew it was something he had to do, because he’d been lying to Dante for too long now, but he didn’t want to shatter their well-developed relationship. He cursed himself for waiting too long. “I have to go,” he said in a rush. “He’s probably awake and wondering where I am.”

Hazel sighed. “Ok. But promise me you’ll tell him, Nico. If you care about him, he needs to know.”

Nico nodded, and waved the connection away. When he climbed back into bed, Dante was indeed awake – at least partially, anyway. He blinked at Nico blearily before partially propping himself up on the pillows. “Where’d you go?” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

“Got a call from my sister,” Nico explained, ducking in close and tugging Dante back down beside him. “She forgot about the time zone difference.”

Dante snorted, and shuffled in to curl himself against Nico’s side, using his shoulder as a pillow – the same position they’d fallen asleep in hours before. While Dante quickly fell back asleep, Nico stayed awake staring at the dark ceiling, wondering how he was going to bring up his heritage and his past in a way that Dante would understand.

(He never said anything; by the time he was forced to explain everything things had fallen so far beyond his control that he was left wondering how he was going to repair the damage to their relationship.)

0o0

_One Month Later_

The streets of Tessera were cobblestoned and old – and the town itself was close enough to the lagoon that the air still smelled rather strongly of salt water and fish thanks to the late June sun. Dante Salvai had been a resident of Tessera for almost a year, having moved from a nearby town with his boyfriend, who was in his third year at university. They lived in a small but comfortable one-bedroom on the fourth floor of a building that had been constructed early in the Renaissance. It was from there that Dante left early on a Saturday morning; it was miraculous that he’d gotten the day off, as Saturdays were rarely granted – so he’d decided to go out to the local markets for fresh fruit, vegetables, and bread for a few tasty meals since his boyfriend’s classes were over – as of last night - too.

Dante was a young man of twenty-two, standing on the taller spectrum of the average height; his hair was a light brown bearing hints of auburn which formed loose curls from the top of his head. His skin was olive-toned like most of those who claimed Mediterranean descent, and he took in his surroundings with light brown, almost amber-colored eyes. Despite it being early in the morning, he was dressed for the day in snug jeans and a deep maroon sweater and an expensive pair of sneakers he’d been staring at through a window at the Puma store not three weeks before. Dante’s few pieces of gold jewelry glittered in the brightening sun, from two small chains around his neck carrying a crucifix – a give from Mama – and his rings, to a pristine gold watch that had been a Christmas gift from his boyfriend. It was a unique thing, unlike any watch he’d seen before: the tiny gears were exposed through the watch face, and there were a few extra pieces that showed the movement of the planets. It was one of his prized possessions, among a few others.

Dante walked with a spring in his step as he headed towards the markets, going over his mental shopping list. His mind drifted back to his still-sleeping boyfriend. They’d met thanks to a combination of Dante’s surprised and awkward nature, and combined luck – or perhaps fate, if Dante decided he believed in such things. They’d officially met in a shared class Dante’s second year of university, and had become friends not long after that meeting; they’d remained close friends throughout his third and Nico’s second year until it became clear that they both wanted more out of the relationship. They had moved in together a few months before, and on occasion Dante still felt a rush concerning how ridiculously lucky they had been to find an apartment so easily, and that said building was respectful and kind considering the more traditional views on homosexuality in the region. No one ever bothered him or his boyfriend, who for a long time seemed to have expected others to verbally or physically attack them for their relationship.

(Part of Dante always wondered how a confrontation like that would play out; his boyfriend wasn’t intensely muscular or anything, but he’d obviously trained with at least one martial arts instructor before they met. He was all wiry muscle, and he’d actually witnessed him take down a would-be mugger, which had been pretty cool – but that didn’t mean Dante wanted to see Nico in danger. The exact opposite, in fact. Based on his behavior, he’d already been through a lot and Dante hoped that they never really got into a situation where one or both of their lives were at stake.)

Nico would be too embarrassed to hear it, but privately Dante thought of Nico as the best thing that had ever happened to him in his relatively short life. He was certainly the best partner he’d had since Dante began dating; Nico was kind, intelligent, (privately) affectionate, and in possession of a wry sense of humor that brightened Dante’s day and surprised him whenever he made a sarcastic crack about one thing or another, usually so only Dante could hear. When they first became friends, those cracks and barbs were muttered under his breath so no one could hear, but as Dante started to catch the remarks they became something they shared. Nico would whisper commentary about something and Dante would turn red with the effort to keep from bursting out laughing, choking on uncontrollable giggles as Nico continued on his relentless play-by-play.

 They’d bonded initially over Nico’s familial history and their respective Venetian backgrounds, though Nico claimed some Greek heritage on his father’s side. They helped each other study and write papers – Nico inexplicably still wrote his papers on an old typewriter rather than a computer, as he insisted that computers absolutely hated him. Based on a few of the instances where he’d seen Nico attempting to use modern technology, he figured it was best to take that explanation at face value. As they’d become closer, Nico had become a consistently warm presence in Dante’s life, physically and emotionally, enough that recently he’d begun thinking about how nice it would be to spend the rest of his life with him.

Then again, that was a lot of commitment to jump in to considering they hadn’t even been dating for a year. The thought made Dante trip up a little, embarrassed by his own romantic notions. He knew that Nico enjoyed the time they spent together – well enough that he’d agreed to live with Dante fulltime – and both liked and trusted him, something that he knew Nico did not do easily. Dante didn’t want to overwhelm him with his indulgent imagination.

Over all though, Dante was contented by the strong, caring bond that they had developed. It had been a long time in the making, from friendly distance to close friendship and unspoken affection – until a fight over a would-be suitor of Dante’s caused them both to reveal their feelings.

Dante was no over-the-top romantic, but he definitely could see himself and Nico living together in a town on the coast when they were older. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but he thought he saw a definite connection – and his father had, remarkably, been the first to mention it. They worked well together – even if Nico was secretive at times and stressed out about too many things, and even if Dante was dramatic and held his grudges well. Even his conservative Catholic father thought they made a good pair, which was certainly saying something.

The smell of fish, freshly baked bread, and marinating vegetables brought him back to his task. The market was small and catered mostly to the surrounding neighborhood. Many of the sellers were local fishermen who couldn’t sell on the Venetian canals for one reason or another, and others sold fresh fruits and vegetables from farmers further inland every few days. Dante haggled with the sellers, negotiating for fruits and vegetables in a well-practiced art. Dante had grown up going on errands with his Mama, and so had witnessed and learned from her expertise in this intricate and customary dance between consumer and proprietor. She was a hard bargainer, impressive in her skills, and while Dante had picked up many of her abilities there were still some fights he lost here and there. The woman who sold the plumpest artichokes would never budge on her price, no matter how much he haggled.

Strawberries were the most important part of his morning hunt, though. Nico had requested that Dante make crepes in the morning in celebration of his completed semester, and he was well aware of his boyfriend’s preferred fillings: fresh strawberries with cream and nutella. They always had Nutella in the apartment thanks to his near obsession with the hazelnut spread. He found the right merchant who always had the ripest strawberries available, and managed to haggle her price down by a Euro. After a few more quick stops, Dante returned home with a package full of red, ripe berries that he was excited to cook with.

When he got back to their apartment, the whole place was still dark. Their cat Beatrice immediately trotted out towards the foyer and started rubbing her sides along Dante’s shins and calves happily. Dante snorted and went directly to the kitchen to put his newly-acquired groceries away and give Beatrice some food and water. Their apartment was small and tidy, with a fairly large living/dining room, tiny kitchen and bathroom, and a moderately-sized bedroom – just big enough for their queen-sized bed and a dresser alongside the built-in closet. When they’d first moved in, the space had been occupied by two twin beds as it had previously been used as student apartments. That had been ok for a while, but in the last few months they’d decided that the separate sleeping spaces weren’t necessary – which had been a big step for both of them. The tile flooring was old and cracked, but seeing as neither Dante nor Nico intended to live there permanently they didn’t see the need to have it fixed. The landlord had painted the walls a stained sort of yellow that reminded Dante of a cigarette smoke stain, with a lime green trim. Honestly, it was pretty ghastly. Nico had complained about it when they first moved in, claiming he was being blinded.

Said boyfriend was still hiding out in their den of a bedroom, swaddled in their comforter and lying face down amongst their mingled pillows as he snored gently. Dante crept over to the other side of the bed – Nico had successfully taken up the whole bed, even without starfishing (like he usually did when he had the bed to himself). His face was smooshed against the sheets, and his long black hair had come free of the short ponytail to become an impressive example of bedhead. Dante couldn’t help the grin that unfurled over his lips; he’d been struck when they first met by how beautiful he was, with his dark hair, expressive eyes, and tentative smile. Even now, with his hair a total mess and his face squished in sleep, Dante still felt that familiar tug behind his breastbone – and he hoped it never went away.

Still, there were crepes to make, and if Nico wasn’t going to be awake for them they would be forfeit.

“Niiiicooooo,” he whispered, smirking when Nico groaned, affronted, in response. “Wake up, sleepyhead. It’s already eleven.”

Nico’s face scrunched up in disgust and he grumbled something unintelligible as he turned his face in the other direction.

“You requested crepes, Mr. di Angelo,” Dante teased. “It would really suck if you weren’t awake to eat them.”

“You wouldn’t,” Nico fairly growled, turning again and peeking out from the pillow. Only one bleary, dark eye was visible between the pillowcase and his thick hair, and that eye was glaring at Dante ineffectually.

“Please, I so would,” Dante chortled. “Come on, what time did you get to bed last night?”

“Almost four,” Nico huffed, burying his face in the pillow completely.

Dante swore under his breath. “You finish your paper?”

Nico’s head moved in the approximation of a nod. “I didn’t wake you up?”

“No, surprisingly. Roll yourself out of bed, though. I’ll make us some crepes.”

“You’re a god among men,” Nico croaked from his pillow.

“Don’t I know it,” Dante snorted, leaning in to kiss Nico’s head after gently brushing a few locks of hair out of the way. “Congratulations on finishing your semester early.”

The blanket rustled, and a hand poked out to give him a thumbs-up while the corners of his mouth curled into a very pleased smile.

“Get your lazy bum up before I eat all your crepes,” Dante threatened him lightly before dodging out of the way of his arm. He gave Beatrice – now perched on her climbing tower outside the window – a gentle scratch behind her ears and immersed himself in his cooking once more.

Nico emerged from their cave of a bedroom about ten minutes later, padding out in bare feet and rubbing his eyes. He was clad in one of Dante’s old jerseys and a pair of dark blue boxer briefs, leaving his long legs bare, and he’d managed to coerce his unruly hair into a short tail. Nico breathed deeply and hummed, burying his face against the nape of Dante’s neck and wrapping his arms tightly around his torso.

“It is alive,” Dante joked, flipping the crepe over in the pan.

“But not quite awake yet,” Nico mumbled, pressing a dry kiss to Dante’s hairline. “They smell delicious.”

 “I’ve got blueberries, strawberries, Nutella, and cream. What do you want in yours?” he asked, even though he already knew the answer. Nico was very particular about his crepes.

He mourned the loss of Nico’s warmth against his back as the other man moved away towards the counter. Nico picked up the bowl of sliced strawberries and jar of Nutella, handing them over and allowing Dante to kiss him on the nose.

“It’ll be another couple of minutes. You want to shower?”

“Don’t eat my crepes and I promise I won’t take all the hot water.”

0o0

Percy Jackson stood outside an old, unremarkable apartment building on a cobblestoned street, the huge wooden doors blocking his way inside. This was the address Hazel gave him – this was where Nico di Angelo, the son of Hades and his former friend, was supposed to be living. Galen must have sensed his anxiety, because the eight month old began fussing from the carrier strapped to his back. He hadn’t seen Nico in six years, not since the battle against Gaea.

He wondered what Nico was like now – how six years had changed him. What did he look like now? What was he doing? What was he like? Percy had trouble imagining a twenty-year-old Nico; he hadn’t known the son of Hades all that well when he was younger, and it didn’t seem right to apply his memories of an angry, isolated adolescent boy to a young man. Was he still skinny and pale, or was he taller and more filled out somewhat? Was he still angry and troubled, or had he let some of that anger go? Would he slam the door in Percy’s face on seeing him again?

The last option seemed rather likely. Percy knew now that he’d really screwed up any semblance of friendship he and Nico might have had when they were younger, as evidenced by Nico completely disappearing in the aftermath of Gaea. Hazel admitted that he’d spent time in the Underworld working with Hades, and that she was using Mist to protect Nico’s identity now that he was living amongst mortals. Percy had been angry at her at first, because a few years before he and Annabeth had sought Nico out before their wedding. They’d searched for weeks, high and low, with no clues as to where he was – despite speaking with Hazel on multiple occasions; she never offered anything up.

Then again, Percy wasn’t sure if Nico really hated him _that_ much, despite cutting himself off from the rest of the demigods and their world. Maybe he hated Percy a lot, but Nico – he was absolutely sure it was him, who else could it have been? – had left Percy one of his Mythomagic figurines when he disappeared. Percy found the Poseidon figure sitting there on his dresser in his cabin when he returned, with no explanation or reasoning. It was still sitting there on his dresser, now in his new apartment, reminding him of the younger boy he’d barely known.

The front door opened and a middle-aged woman walking a grey husky strode out; Percy took advantage of the opportunity to get in the door, as there did not seem to be any di Angelo’s listed among the buzzers. He knew at least that Nico was supposed to be in apartment 42. The walk up the four flights of stairs felt tedious, like gravity was trying to pull him back down and away from his intended destination. Percy didn’t know how Nico was going to react to him – maybe that was what terrified him the most. He knew he wasn’t Nico’s favorite person by far, so he was fairly certain he could expect some kind of negative reaction.

When he reached apartment 42, he stood there frozen for almost five minutes without knocking. Percy didn’t know if he could – this would mean totally turning Nico’s life upside down once again.

But then he finally did gather up the gumption to knock, and a few moments later he heard the telltale signs of locks being undone before the door was pulled open.

It definitely wasn’t Nico who answered.

The man on the other side of the portal was roughly his height, with dark curly hair, tanned, olive skin, and light brown eyes. He was young, probably a little younger than Percy, wearing baggy sweatpants and an old Milan jersey. Percy had the distinct impression that Annabeth and some of the other female former campers would absolutely find this guy handsome, and Percy was comfortable enough with his sexuality that he might agree with them. The smell coming from within the apartment was heavenly, and Percy could barely hear the melodic soundtrack from a videogame from somewhere inside.

Percy blinked rapidly. The other man was staring at him expectantly, with carefully arched eyebrows. Clearly he had the wrong apartment number. Percy apologized and backed away from the door, and the other man responded by giving him a quizzical look and closing the door behind him.

Percy then sought out a secluded corner and made a call to Hazel again.

“No, that’s definitely his apartment,” she said confidently. “He’s been there for at least seven months.”

“Then who’s the guy?”

“His roommate, probably. Nico said he’s a fantastic cook.”

“Oh. You didn’t say his roommate was a model. I might have asked if Nico was there instead of running away awkwardly.”

“Model? Is he handsome, Percy?” she teased. “I’m not sure how much he would have understood, I don’t think Dante speaks much English.”

“Ok, then. I guess I’ll try it again.”

“Breathe deep, Percy. Good luck.”

0o0

The doorbell rang for the second time that day, and with Dante now putting the finishing touches on their heavenly-smelling crepes Nico sighed and paused his game, lurching from his spot on the couch to answer the door. It was a Saturday, and he didn’t care if he was wearing pajama pants and one of Dante’s old soccer jerseys. At least he’d pulled his still-wet hair into a ponytail, so he looked somewhat presentable. It was a lazy, stay-at-home-and-vegetate kind of day, after all.

Being up until four AM did wonders for his lack of concern.

But when he opened the door, Nico found that he couldn’t speak. It was as if time itself froze and his heart clenched in his chest painfully. Shock and surprise slowed his reactions down to a snail’s pace. It had been six years since he had seen Perseus Jackson, and the son of Poseidon certainly looked older, but he was unmistakable with his wild eyes and wilder black hair. And Percy was staring right back at him, eyes wide with uncertainty written all over his face. There appeared to be several days worth of stubble along his jaw, making him look even more disheveled, and there were dark circles under red-rimmed eyes. He looked awful.

“Percy?” Nico whispered, gripping the door tightly to anchor himself into reality. He felt like he was ten years old again, dumbstruck and blinded by the brilliance of Percy’s light. Nico was too shocked to even attempt to lock those feelings down and calm his rapidly accelerating heartbeat. What the fuck was he doing here?

Percy blinked, his eyes widening further with recognition. “ _Di immortales_ – Nico, is that really you?”

“What are you doing here?” Nico hissed, slipping easily back into English and voicing the loudest question in his mind. He couldn’t stop his eyes from cataloguing all the changes in Percy since he’d last seen him, after he and the others returned from battling Gaea: his hair was shorter but no less wild; he was taller by an inch or two, and broader, like he’d actually gained some weight in muscle or mass since he wasn’t constantly on the run anymore. Percy’s beaded camp necklace still hung around his neck, and a simple gold band had been added to the ring finger on his left hand. Oh, Nico realized what it meant. Of course he and Annabeth got married. Still, he didn’t see Annabeth with him, which was very unusual. What had happened? “How did you find me?”

“Please don’t be mad. Hazel, she – wait. Are you really Nico di Angelo? Who was that guy before?”

“Yes, Percy, it’s me, and that was-“

“What game did you play as a kid?” Percy cut him off.

“What – Mythomagic, you idiot, what are you-“

“Too easy,” Percy muttered to himself, running his fingers through his hair and messing it up even more. “What kind of cake did my mom stuff you with after the labyrinth?”

“Blue,” Nico answered easily, recalling the memory of Percy’s mom fretting over his skinny frame fondly. “I’d never had birthday cake before. You were planting a moonflower on your balcony. It’s me, Percy.”

Percy stared, still processing this information. “You – dude. You look good. You’re taller.”

He knew what Percy saw: Nico had shot up in height over the last few years, and while he was still thin at least his shoulders were broader. Nico could actually look Percy directly in the eyes now, which was totally strange to him. The last time he and Percy had been in the same room together, Nico had been more than a head shorter than the son of Poseidon. His skin was several shades darker now after spending months under the Mediterranean sun, the dark circles under his eyes had nearly disappeared, and his hair was much longer – he’d pulled it up into a small ponytail, but he still hand long bangs hanging in his eyes. Nico understood why Percy didn’t quite recognize him at first.

“Six years and a family of cooks force-feeding you vegetables for a portion of that will have that affect occasionally,” Nico snorted dryly. “Percy, what’s going on? Forgive me, but you look like hell.”

“I need to ask you something,” Percy exhaled, deflating. “And I have no right to ask for it, but . . . I need your help. Annabeth was kidnapped, and there’s been signs pointing to the Underworld and there’s no way in hell I’m going into the Underworld without someone who knows what they’re doing. I need to ask for your help, and I’m honestly at the point where I’ve been freaking out for three straight weeks. I’m sorry, I didn’t want to do this and I would have IM’d you but you’re like, unlisted as far as Iris goes so I’m sorry for dumping this on you out of the blue. Please, I can’t do this on my own.”

In the moment that followed Percy’s dire jumble of words, a playful burble erupted from behind Percy, and a small, pudgy hand reached up and grabbed a lock of hair.

“Ow, ow ow, jeez Galen, don’t tug on daddy’s hair,” Percy hissed, wincing and trying to free the captive strands.

It was Nico’s turn to stare at Percy with bulging eyes. “You have a baby?”

“Oh – yeah. Nico, this is Galen,” he said, twisting around so Nico could see the baby strapped to his back. He was beautiful, smiling and clearly happy; he had Annabeth’s curly blond hair, and Percy’s bright blue and green eyes. The little boy squealed at the sight of someone new to play with, and started making eager grabby hands towards Nico.

“She was kidnapped?” Nico swallowed thickly, his eyes not leaving the small child strapped to Percy’s back for several minutes. After Percy nodded solemnly, Nico felt his stomach drop out as he realized what was going to happen. Shit. “You’d better come inside.”

TBC…


	2. Part 2 Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Percy arrives in Venice seeking Nico’s help in finding Annabeth, Nico’s life with Dante is almost completely torn apart at the roots. Nevertheless, and against his better judgment, Nico sets out to help Percy bring their mysterious foe to justice – despite the obstacles they face within and against their adversary. Meanwhile, in New Rome, Dante struggles with the revelations about Nico and is faced with new opportunities among the demigods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a little while, hasn't it?
> 
> This chapter starts about a month before Percy shows up in Venice, then starting in the second chapter we'll catch up to the present.
> 
> Thank you all so much for your support and patience, it has meant the world to me. I hope you all enjoy the follow-up, which I should be able to update once or twice a week :)

Chapter 1

_One month ago_

Even though Percy Jackson kind of figured that it would be cliché to say that the world ended on a Monday, he’s fairly certain that his _did_.

His whole world came crashing down around his head when the NYPD burst into his apartment, screaming for him to get down on his knees and put his hands on his head. He’d been waiting for Annabeth, his wife of five years, to come home from her site for the day and had just picked their seven month old son up to feed him; their arrival stunned him to his very core, and even though most of his instincts screamed to fight back against intruders in his own home they were overruled by those to protect their child. So he slowly and carefully held Galen up and told them he was going to put the little boy back in his crib now that he was upset and squalling.

When he asked what this was all about as three police officers turned him around and handcuffed him, they responded quickly by reading him his rights.

Percy didn’t hear much of anything they had to say after the words “under arrest for the kidnap of Annabeth Chase-Jackson” left their lips.

After that, Percy lived in a waking nightmare; he hadn’t truly slept in nearly two weeks, and each day that passed was worse than the last.

When he dreamed, it was of terrified screams and tanned skin flecked with blood – so Percy tried his best not to sleep.

But when he was awake, he was hounded and tormented by the words of others, tearing him apart verbally on the television and radio.

Now, Percy Jackson had never really given a flying fuck what most people thought of him; he’d grown up being called a ‘troubled kid’ more times than he could possibly count, and he was well aware that certain deities – and other demigods – viewed him as an idiot or a high-powered jackass. He really wasn’t interested in what people – who had never even met him before – said about him, because people were going to believe what they wanted to, no matter what. But the last two weeks had left him completely shellshocked in a way that made him feel like he’d just crawled out of Tartarus _again_ , and while he knew he couldn’t do anything to change people’s opinions it still felt like a wound to his soul when he heard them spew blatant lies about him and Annabeth.

They’d been married for five years now, but he could barely remember a time when he was without her now. She’d been a part of his life for so long, to have her ripped away from him – and to then be blamed for it – was like being stabbed in the solar plexus over and over again.

He woke, not for the first time, to a news report once again talking about him.

“Well I really don’t know what the – excuse my French, Helen – hell the police were thinking letting Jackson walk free. The security footage released was undeniable!”

“But what about the apartment lobby cameras?” a woman on the radio asked. “They picked him up getting in the elevator to see his mother, the author Sally Blofis. She insists that he was there picking up his son at the same time. There’s something really fishy about this.”

Percy didn’t snicker at her word choice.

“There’s always been something fishy about him. His school records are filled with fighting allegations and cover-ups by his step-father, Paul Blofis. He’s always been a danger, of that I am sure. I mean, have you seen the police logs on this guy?”

Percy rolled his eyes and rolled out of bed, shuffling into the hallway. Even in his mother and step-father’s apartment, a few steps didn’t make any difference.

“It’s astonishing what he was able to get away with, Tom. I will not argue with that. But let’s look at the facts of this particular case – not looking at anything from his past – something is wrong with it. First of all, the opposing security footage: it is absolutely impossible to get from the Lower East Side to Manhattan within a matter of moments. He could not have been in two places at once!”

Percy hummed. He kind of liked Helen. She seemed like a reasonable lady.

“And second of all,” she continued, “we are talking about a man kidnapping his wife. By every account that we have heard, Percy and Annabeth Jackson were an incredibly close and loving couple. They have a young child! Why would he kidnap his own wife?”

“We’ve had these stories before, though,” Tom shot back as Percy crept past his mother’s bedroom to the makeshift nursery she and his step-father had set up the night he’d moved in with them. “It’s not unheard-of, men have kidnapped and killed their wives before. Just because everyone who knew them said they were lovey-dovey doesn’t mean there wasn’t something going on!”

Percy fumed; he really would have loved to punch Tom in the nose, so instead he calmed himself by gently picking the slumbering eight month old up from his crib. The little boy mumbled and burbled in his sleep, his tiny hands gripping the fabric of Percy’s shirt as he nuzzled into his father’s chest. Galen was the only happiness he had left – all he had left of Annabeth, too. He looked a lot like her, with a mop of blond curls perched atop his head, along with her nose and ears. Galen babbled a lot, and was exceptionally vocal; Annabeth had been saying before her disappearance that he was clearly taking after her. As a daughter of Athena, languages outside of Ancient Greek and Latin came a little easier for her. Aside from that, Annabeth’s father informed him that she had been a very talkative toddler. Galen did get his bright, ocean-glass eyes from Percy, as well as some control of water: bathing was particularly difficult, because he seemed to have figured out how to repel the water from his skin when he was upset.

Now though, Percy wondered if the eight month old was starting to pick up on his emotions. There were moments of weakness when he let his fears and anxiety get the best of him, and Galen seemed to react almost instantly by wailing and screaming. When he picked Galen up and brought him into the kitchen to start making a bottle for him, the little boy started to protest. Getting him to take the bottle was almost impossible.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry – Mommy will be home soon, I promise,” Percy babbled while Galen continued to push the warm bottle away from his mouth. “Look little dude, if your Mommy’s breasts were available you’d absolutely have access – but we don’t have Mommy’s breasts and Daddy doesn’t lactate, so this is just going to have to do, little man.”

Galen hiccupped and glared, grudgingly taking the nipple and draining the bottle. Later he’d get some soft solids, once Percy was awake enough to prepare them.

His mother and Paul had been very helpful throughout the whole ordeal, taking them into their apartment and giving Percy refuge from the press and the neighborhood watch – most of whom were totally convinced that he’d kidnapped and killed his wife. It hadn’t been long since the story broke, so Percy took care whenever he went outside now. The lack of progress by the police and detectives – as well as his own examinations of his dreams and memory of that day – were beginning to convince him that this was likely a godly dispute or one with another demigod, and that it was going to be necessary eventually to head for Camp Half-Blood for help. He felt like he would need all the help he could get to deal with this.

“I think it’s time to go back to camp,” he said as Galen stuffed some of his fingers into his mouth, chewing on the digits. “Maybe Auntie Rachel can help.”

“You think it might be a monster of some kind?”

Percy nearly jumped when he heard his mother’s soft voice from the doorway. He twisted around, still holding on to Galen even when the little boy warbled and reached for his grandmother. “I think so. I mean – it must be, right?”

“What about another demigod?”

“Annabeth and I have had plenty of enemies in the past, but we haven’t tangled with anyone in years.” Percy paused, remembering his own lines of thought from earlier. “But I guess it’s a possibility. A strong one, even.”

“But you think Rachel might have some answers? What if she sends you on a quest?”

“Then I go on a quest, Mom,” Percy shrugged. He figured he’d earned his keep in the world, having gone on some of the most treacherous quests as a teenager. Quests were usually reserved for younger demigods, so it was rare for a demigod over the age of seventeen to be sent on any kind of quest. Since Apollo was disgraced, Rachel – still residing as the Oracle of Delphi – hadn’t received nearly as many visions as she used to, but occasionally she would receive small flashes of the Sight, which gave her clues to pass along. Rachel at least might be able to get a read on what they were dealing with, and possibly where he could find Annabeth – he hoped.

“And your son?”

“Will stay with Rachel and the others at Camp Half-Blood, or at Camp Jupiter. Whoever is willing to look after him.”

“I don’t like any of this. Why can’t you leave him here with Paul and I?”

Percy took a deep, calming breath through his nose, holding Galen a little closer to his chest. Galen whined and whimpered into his shirt, and Percy knew the little boy was picking up on his anxieties. “Whoever it was took Annabeth,” Percy hissed. “She was one of the most capable and dangerous fighters of all the demigods. She would fight tooth and nail before being taken – and furthermore, the guy who took her _looked exactly like me_. I would feel . . . so much better leaving Galen with a group of demigods who could protect him.”

Sally nodded, looking down; her shoulders sagged under the weight of his statement, and she sighed heavily. “I understand. We’ll miss you both.”

“I’ll bring them both back as soon as I can. I’ll bring her home.”

“I guess it’s better than hiding out here waiting for the reporters to ambush you, right?” Sally Blofis sighed, cupping his jaw and pulling him down to kiss his cheeks. “Be safe out there. Keep us updated when you can.”

Percy packed things as thoughtfully as he could; he wasn’t sure how long he’d be gone, or whether he’d be able to take Galen with him, so he packed their toiletries, some food, and enough clothes for them to be comfortable. In the end Percy had a rather large pack strapped to his back while Galen’s carrier was transitioned to his front (the eight-month old got anxious if he couldn’t see what was going on at all times) while he carried a large duffel containing Galen’s diaper bag and some of Percy’s clothes. The trip to camp was uneventful, though Percy knew better than to get too complacent. Just because his aura was much more prominent than it was when he was a teenager didn’t mean certain monsters wouldn’t jump at the chance to try and take him out now.

Still, nothing bothered him, and when he crossed the barrier into Camp Half-Blood he let out a tense sigh. Camp looked almost exactly the same as it had when he was a teenager; a beautiful, fun-looking camp site right near the water, with a multitude of cabins all surrounding a huge common area for bonfires. Younger demigods were flitting this way and that, on their way to archery, canoeing, sword fighting, or lessons in history and demigod lore. There was still some evidence of the fight with Gaea – some physical wounds would never really heal in this place – but the camp looked full and prosperous, with the multitudes of new cabins present in the wake of Jason’s campaign to recognize forgotten deities and their demigod children. Percy almost missed being a camper some days, though given the amount of times he almost died as a kid at camp or because of camp, he figured that said something very powerful about his state of mind.

A few of the campers stopped and stared when they saw him walking in; others leaned to their friends and began speaking in whispers, while one boy tripped over a root while staring at him. Percy was baffled by that reaction: it was one he received quite a bit, and he wasn’t sure how or why he still maintained his heroic reputation. Other demigods who’d fought against Gaea and Octavian had been far more heroic than he.

Grover was the first to greet him – which honestly involved nearly bowling him over; in the satyr community Grover was considered a little older than middle age by now, raising several children of his own now. Long horns now curved around the sides of his head, which reminded Percy of Bighorn sheep. He was an elder on the council, and assisted Chiron in the running of the camp. Their reunion was not as happy as Percy would have hoped though, as Grover’s face turned serious and he started tugging him towards the big house. His only explanation was, “Rachel needs to talk to you, _now._ ”

“Did she see something?” Percy demanded as he walked quickly in time with Grover’s long, hoofed strides. Since Apollo’s disgrace, there really hadn’t been many prophecies made – but occasionally Rachel would get a glimpse of something that was going on and would pass the information on to the other demigods. It was rare . . . but if she’d seen something it would give him a good place to start from.

Grover whined in response. “You could say that.”

“What in Hades does that mean?”

His companion made a choked sound, tripping a little. “You – you’ll see. She’s waiting.”

0o0

“I was wondering when you’d show up,” Rachel snapped when he finally arrived at the big house; she was almost just as Percy remembered, her wild red curls pulled up in a messy bun and her clothes covered in acrylic paint. The walls of the big house were nearly covered with her artwork. “We’ve been trying to get in touch with you for weeks.”

“I was advised not to take any calls,” Percy responded, nonplussed. “The press has been all over me ever since Annabeth-“

“Even Iris Messages, Percy?” she cut in scathingly.

He shrugged. “I really wasn’t in the mindset to communicate, you know. I was practically being chased down by reporters and lawyers after they released me, and I had a kid to take care of.”

“Understandable,” Rachel allowed, “but it meant I wasn’t able to tell you what the Oracle has to say on the matter.”

“Does it have any information on how to get Annabeth back?”

Rachel hedged. “Some.”

“A prophecy?” Percy suggested, nonplussed by her hesitation.

“Not exactly,” Rachel muttered, taking a deep breath and letting it out through her nose. “You know I don’t make those anymore. When we heard what happened, we waited for the Oracle to call a quest. It never did, which . . . honestly isn’t surprising, since Apollo hasn’t made much progress. So we asked her specifically.”

“And?”

“I managed to get something from her. It wasn’t much, but it’s a small head start.”

“Rachel, I have been going absolutely crazy the last two weeks. I’ll take what I can get.”

“It’s a bit of an unconventional quest.” Even then, Rachel looked incredibly uncomfortable.

“Ok,” Percy huffed. “So who are the lucky demigods who have to tag along?”

“Demigod,” she corrected. “Singular.”

The son of Poseidon blanched. “Quests are always embarked on in threes.”

Rachel shrugged. “Not this one. The Oracle said that you had to seek the help of one demigod in particular if you wanted to bring Annabeth back alive. You’re going to have to talk to his sister though if you want to find him. He’s been off the grid for a long time.”

Percy’s brain started clicking some of the pieces together immediately. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Wish I was, but no. You’re going to have to find Nico di Angelo somehow.”

Percy deflated, staring at her and feeling like he’d been kicked in the stomach. “You’re totally serious.”

“That’s the answer I got,” Rachel shrugged. “Find Nico, and he can help you find Annabeth.”

Percy couldn’t help but wonder what kind of cosmic prank this was. “But no one has seen Nico in six years, Rachel. How am I supposed to find someone who really – really – doesn’t want to be found?”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “Do you really think he hasn’t communicated with _anyone_ since going dark? Hazel is your best bet for finding him. From my understanding, they talk fairly regularly.” After a moment, Rachel leaned across the table and took Percy’s hand. “I know you think this is a wild goose chase, but I know this will work. Go to Camp Jupiter, talk to Hazel. You’re going to need her help first.”

Percy just stared at her. “How is Nico going to help me find her? Why him? Is she dead?”

“I don’t know,” Rachel insisted, throwing her hands in the air. “I got the explicit message that you need him, though. He’s going to help you bring her back.”

Percy really wasn’t sure what to make of that proclamation. The last thing he wanted to do was bother someone who really didn’t want to be bothered, but if Nico really was the key to finding Annabeth, he had to at least try. He knew Nico used to have a bit of a crush on Annabeth, so he hoped that maybe it might spark some sympathy in him. Eventually Percy nodded, agreeing to go to Camp Jupiter so he could then seek Nico out.

Saying that he would find Nico and actually doing the legwork were two totally different things, of course.

There was the distinct possibility that Nico had literally gone underground that weighed heavily on Percy’s mind. When Nico didn’t want to be found, the Underworld was a pretty damn good place to go to make sure no one ever followed him.

However Rachel was certain that Hazel still wrote to her brother and communicated with him fairly regularly, which indicated that he was topside – at least for some parts of the year. So the next step was clearly to have a sitdown with the current Ambassador of Pluto to see what she could tell him about her brother’s current living situation. Percy was pretty sure that she would refuse to tell him much of anything, as Nico had made it crystal clear that he didn’t want much of anything to do with the demigods from New Rome and Camp Half-blood.  He’d left without a word following the heated battle between the Greek and Roman forces, slipping into the shadows before anyone even knew he was gone – except for Hazel. Hopefully he could change her mind given the issue of an almost-prophecy involving Nico – which still meant that he needed to make the journey to New Rome first.

Travel between the two camps hadn’t gotten any easier in the last few years, despite the hard-won alliance they shared. The Labyrinth was still troublesome and dangerous – if Percy was planning on just going to New Rome himself, he might simply go that way, but he’d opted to take Galen with him. Since his mother had mentioned the idea that Annabeth’s kidnapper might be another demigod, Percy had been loath to leave his son anywhere, even in camps he trusted. He’d been fooled by demigods he trusted before, and he wasn’t going to make that mistake again. Trains took too long, and in a plane he’d be subject to Zeus’ wrath, so in the end he decided that taking Blackjack was the safest bet of all. Galen loved the pegasus and Blackjack was quite taken with the eight-month old, so Galen would be calm and content for most of the ride at least.

It was still a six hour flight from Camp Half-Blood to New Rome, and by the time they arrived Percy resolved to beg Hazel to let him borrow Arion the next time.

Camp Jupiter was largely the same as it had been when he arrived years before, though Jason’s influence had been felt here just as much as it had been at Camp Half-Blood. New temples and statues had been erected all over the place, all commemorating minor and forgotten gods and goddesses from eons past. Percy had to admire the work his best friend had done; while he and Annabeth studied here at the university, Jason had been very busy campaigning for the recognition and acceptance of those forgotten deities, and they’d witnessed a clear transformation of both camps.

While Percy led Blackjack over to the officers’ stables for some much-needed food and water (the pegasus was on a strict no-doughnut diet currently) he heard a female voice calling his name from afar. He turned and saw a figure that could only be Hazel jogging towards him.

Percy hadn’t seen Hazel in nearly six months, and she looked happier and more at ease than ever. At nineteen, she’d become an accomplished witch and ambassador for both Camp Jupiter and Pluto, helping to solve disputes within the government of New Rome. She was dressed more casually now, having abandoned the toga for their talk, wearing a dark green shirt and jeans, the colors complimenting her cinnamon-colored curls and bright, golden eyes. Hazel was looking at him with a serious expression, lips turned down to express her worry.

She enveloped him in a hug almost immediately, pulling him in tightly before kissing his cheek. “It’s been too long,” she muttered before spinning him around to pull Galen out of his carrier. “Look at this handsome boy!” Hazel exclaimed, bouncing him in her arms. “Iris Messages don’t do him justice,” she cooed, and Galen squawked happily back at her.

“Say hi to Auntie Hazel, Galen,” Percy sang, and the eight month old responded with a loud burble as he reached for Hazel’s hair.”

“What brings you here, Percy?” she asked, her tone just this side of guarded. He’d spoken with Reyna before leaving New York, so she must have informed Hazel of some of the details of what was happening – or at least warned her that he didn’t come bearing good news. “This is about Annabeth, isn’t it?”

Percy nodded solemnly. “You heard?”

“Of course we did,” she whispered, her voice suddenly hoarse. “It’s horrible. Every demigod I know is on high alert now. I can’t imagine what kind of thing you’re dealing with here.”

“Can we talk more in private?” Percy asked, eyes shifting around suspiciously to the other demigods milling around staring. He really didn’t like being stared at much anymore.

Hazel blinked. “Of course. Come with me.” She turned, and still carrying Galen, led Percy down the way towards her father’s shrine. It was still quite barren and desolate, making it clear to him that some superstitions never faded, even for demigods. “What is it?”

“You know that I was held as a suspect for weeks?”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “We heard. You want to tell me what happened?”

When he finished recounting the trials and tribulations of the last few weeks, Hazel had her hand covering her mouth in horror. After a moment she cleared her throat and stiffened her posture. “What do you need here, Percy? Why did you come here, why aren’t you out looking for Annabeth now?”

“I need to ask you a favor first,” Percy admitted. “And I know you’re not going to like it, but I really need you to hear me out.”

“Speak and be heard.”

“I need to ask you where Nico is living now,” he said quietly, sighing heavily. “I need his help.”

Hazel froze in the middle of patty-cake with Galen. “Nico asked to be left alone after Gaea’s fall,” she reminded him. “I can’t give you that information.”

“Even if Rachel made a prophecy, and it specifically mentioned him?” Percy countered quickly. “She told me Nico was going to be the one to help me get her back. There’s only one son of Hades.”

“The Oracle has been silent for years,” Hazel said evenly. “No prophecies have been made since Gaea.”

“Okay, not exactly a prophecy – but she went searching for an answer, and it told her specifically that Nico can help me find Annabeth.”

“And he is in the demigod equivalent of witness protection,” she hissed back. “You have no idea how many charms and spells I cast to keep him safe and protected.”

“Yes, I do – because I tried to locate him, and it’s as if he doesn’t even exist right now. Please, help me out.”

“I can’t, Percy. I promised. I _promised_ him.”

“I need his help,” Percy insisted. “According to Rachel, I can’t do this without him. I know what I’m asking-“

“You have no idea what you’re asking,” Hazel cut him off abruptly. “You’re asking me to help you betray his trust and to tear apart everything he’s worked so hard to build. You’re asking me to help you ruin his life, Percy.”

“That’s being a little melodramatic, isn’t it?” Percy scoffed. Really? Would their reunion actually ruin Nico’s life? He didn’t think Nico hated him _that_ much. Then again, Percy thought sadly, they hadn’t parted on the best of terms; Nico had clearly been frustrated with him, and he hadn’t even bothered to say goodbye before disappearing. All he’d done was left a Mythomagic figurine on Percy’s dresser. “Look, you know I wouldn’t do this unless I didn’t see any other way to go about it. He left and made it absolutely clear that he didn’t want anything to do with us. I respected that, and I still do. But if he is the key to finding Annabeth . . . I need to try and talk to him.  Even if he’d probably slam the door in my face anyway.”

“He wouldn’t,” Hazel huffed, frowning deeply.

“Are you sure about that? I figured it was pretty obvious that he hated my guts.”

“Well, if you had sat down to talk with him for more than a minute it would have been fairly obvious that he really looked up to you, Percy. You just made up your mind not to trust him too early.”

Percy scowled at her. He didn’t think that was really how it happened, so he was a little annoyed that that was how it was being presented – and the idea of Nico actually _looking up to him_ seemed almost absurd when juxtaposed with his memories of the younger boy. “He sold me out to your father,” he pointed out.

“He was a kid,” Hazel snapped back at him. “He desperately wanted our father’s approval and trusted him to follow through with his promise – but do you really think he so easily trusted him after that? Stop using that against him, Percy. It’s old. It’s time to let go.”

“I have let it go. That’s just . . . the reason I stopped trusting him.”

Hazel looked like she desperately wanted to say something in retaliation, but managed to swallow it, her mouth twisting like she’d bitten into a lemon. At long last Hazel sighed, and Percy felt sorry for pushing her. “He’s going to get dragged into this mess no matter what, isn’t he?” she asked, looking to him for confirmation. When Percy nodded she sighed again. “He’s living in a suburb of Venice. I can give you the address. He’s really not going to like this.”

“I’ll make sure he knows that it wasn’t your idea. That I didn’t want to do this, either.”

Hazel waved his words off. “Just don’t treat him like a child. Unless you really want him to kick your ass.”

Percy ducked his head and nodded, pursing his lips. “I’d rather not get my ass whooped by Nico, so I’ll do my best.”

Hazel’s hand snapped out and gripped his wrist in a tight, bone-grinding grip; Percy looked up, startled, and swallowed thickly. Hazel’s eyes, normally a dark gold, were lit up with a dangerous, smoldering spark.

Percy swallowed again. “Hazel?”

“If you hurt him, I will make you regret it for the rest of your life.”

“I promise,” he said weakly, nodding shortly until she finally released him from her grip. “Jeez,” he grunted, rubbing his sore wrist. “I thought Nico was the only one with power over bones.”

“He is,” Hazel said simply, shrugging, while Percy stared at her with wide eyes.

In the end Percy decided that it would be easiest to fly to Venice – after a generous sacrifice to Zeus and a gentle reminder of the truce they had come to after the war on Gaea – given the less than welcoming reception demigods received traveling by pegasus across forbidden lands and seas. Percy just hoped he didn’t have to deal with furious gryphons or harpies, because really – they were the last things he wanted to worry about.

Hazel came to the gate with him, helping Percy through security with Galen (whom Percy refused to leave behind until things were settled, given that by now he was fairly certain that Annabeth’s kidnapper was also a demigod and he felt infinitely safer knowing that his son was with him) and the minimal luggage he brought along. The last-minute one-way ticket from LAX to Venice had not been cheap, but he figured it was a lesser of two evils when it came to travel. Percy just hoped that Galen would be calm for the trip.

When it came time to board, Hazel hugged him and slipped a paper with Nico’s address into Percy’s pocket. “Please be kind to him. Respect his boundaries. You two don’t owe each other anything, so you have a chance to do better this time.” She paused, sighing heavily and resigned. “A while ago he was living in his mother’s old apartment, but a few months ago he moved in with a roommate. I think his name is Dante. Don’t give away any information unless you know for certain that Nico’s already told him. It’s not your place.”

“Trust me,” Percy muttered wryly, “the last thing I need or want is to piss Nico off.”

Knowing them though, it was going to happen one way or another,” Percy thought darkly.  He and Nico hadn’t been able to see eye to eye for years, and his main hope was that Nico wouldn’t just slam the door in his face – no matter what Hazel said. There was a ninety percent chance of that happening in Percy’s head.

Somehow he managed to survive the plane ride – Zeus obligingly let him pass, and Galen didn’t bawl throughout the too-long trip, so they were able to get there without much fanfare. Percy had never been to Venice before, given the lack of protection demigods had on forbidden grounds, but he couldn’t focus on the scenery. Instead he found a taxi to take him to the address Hazel had given him, and sat in the back of the car, quietly soothing a tired and anxious baby. He had no idea what would come of this journey, but he hoped it was something somewhat positive – and that somehow, he could convince Nico to hear him out.

 


	3. Part 2 Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Percy’s arrival at his door completely turned his world on its side, it was completely upended by his desperate pleas for help. Nico couldn’t think of a more appropriate response than to let him in and hear him out. “You’d better come inside,” he said after a brief moment of hesitation, stepping aside to let Percy slip past him, into the foyer of his apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Snowmageddon, everyone! If you're in the storm's path, please take care and be safe.

Chapter 2

If Percy’s arrival at his door completely turned his world on its side, it was completely upended by his desperate pleas for help. Nico couldn’t think of a more appropriate response than to let him in and hear him out. “You’d better come inside,” he said after a brief moment of hesitation, stepping aside to let Percy slip past him, into the foyer of his apartment.

Nico was having trouble believing that Percy Jackson was actually in his apartment, standing before him for the first time in six years. It felt incredibly surreal, looking at a young man who bore clear remnants of Percy’s appearance and demeanor, though stretched and filled in with his settling into adulthood. He looked good – healthy and strong, though clearly exhausted and at his wits’ end. Even more shocking was the baby strapped to Percy’s back – though really, who was Nico kidding, the fact that Percy and Annabeth had had a baby was probably the least surprising aspect of all of this. Maybe it was the fact that he actually _brought_ the baby with him; did Percy not trust anyone to take care of him?

Nico closed the door behind Percy and Galen, still gawking at them a little, and at that moment Dante chose to emerge from the kitchen. _“Is everything ok, Nico?”_ he asked, before pausing right beside him. _“This guy was here earlier. Do you know him?”_

 _“Dante, this is Percy Jackson,”_ he said in Italian, knowing his boyfriend would make the connection. He’d told Dante a little about Percy, having assumed he would never see the son of Poseidon again.

Dante stared. _“You have got to be kidding me.”_

Nico shrugged at him. _“This is him.”_

“What did he say?” Percy asked, confused.

Nico cursed inwardly, realizing that Percy had no background in Italian and thus wouldn’t be able to understand what they were saying. “Percy, this is my . . . boyfriend, Dante,” Nico said, swallowing his anxieties while ignoring both Percy’s question and Dante’s muttered curse.

“Oh,” Percy mumbled, clearly surprised at Nico’s admission. He stood, shifting Galen to his other arm and extending his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Dante had crossed his arms over his chest, and after a discrete nudge from Nico he shook Percy’s hand stiffly. He said something back in Italian – knowing Percy probably didn’t understand at all – that made Nico cringe; once he released Percy’s hand Nico rounded on him. _“Behave,”_ he hissed.

“Is everything ok?” Percy asked.

Nico schooled his expression and gave him a tight smile. “Yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine.”

“How long have you guys been together?” Percy asked curiously. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Seven months,” Nico smiled, and Dante slipped a possessive arm around his waist as he watched the two of them talk.  

 _"Is he staying for lunch?"_ Dante asked furtively in Italian.

 

Nico started, thrown by the off-topic question before he winced, realizing that Dante had no idea what Percy was asking. He remembered a discussion with his boyfriend months ago, when Dante revealed that learning English had been the absolute worst for him growing up. He could communicate to a degree when he absolutely needed to, but in general, the language felt completely alien to him. This would probably get interesting. After a moment Nico nodded, reaching for his hand to give it a gentle squeeze. _"And probably for dinner too. This doesn't sound very good."_

 

_"Can you ask if he wants anything? It would be rude if I just brought your food out."_

 

"Are you hungry, Percy? Dante was just making some crepes for a late breakfast."

 

Percy seemed startled by the question; he kept sneaking glances at Nico’s waist, where Dante’s fingers sat. "Oh, no thank you. I'm not entirely sure I could stomach anything right now."

 

Nico turned and translated for him, and Dante nodded brusquely before escaping back into the kitchen. He seemed very happy to escape Percy’s presence, which made him worry about how he would act as Percy stuck around. Nico invited Percy to have a seat, which the other man did; he unstrapped the baby from its backpack and sat him on his lap, bouncing him on his knee while the little boy eyed Nico with his bright, off-putting gaze.

 

Before Nico could say anything though, Percy was leaning forward a little. "I didn't know you were gay!"

 

Nico shrugged and turned off the TV, which was paused on a Coliseum battle in the first Kingdom Hearts game (he got a huge kick out of their rendition of Hades, but he’d never admit that to his father). Of course Percy would zero in on that first. "Is it a big deal?" He didn't hide the edge in his voice. He didn’t put up with anyone being homophobic dicks to him, and he certainly wasn’t going to give Percy Jackson a pass to treat him the same way.

 

Percy, however, looked alarmed by the insinuation. "No! No, I just had no idea. I always thought - Annabeth, you know."

 

Nico snorted. "I don't know who came up with that, but no. I never had a crush on Annabeth." It was still weird to him that many of the other demigods had assumed that his crush had been focused on her when the feelings associated with her in memory were grudging respect and jealousy.

 

Percy nodded to himself, as if he was sorting things through in his head. "Well, you look good - I meant that. You said you had a family of cooks or something?"

 

"Sort of. Dante's family basically adopted me when we became friends. His mother and grandmother both cook a lot, and Dante does too."

 

"That's pretty cool. Your own personal Italian chefs. I bet they force fed you cannoli or something."

 

"Not quite. Listen, did you really come here to talk about my boyfriend? What's going on with Annabeth?"

 

"Oh, sorry. I just - I haven't seen you in six years, man. I wanted to know how you were for a while. And when you left I got told that I didn't really know you at all – then you were just gone, and no one knew how to find you. Or,” he huffed, mouth twisting unhappily; then Percy sighed, reeling back his expression and pushing away whatever that line of thought was for the moment. Nico could practically feel the tension radiating off him, as he clearly wanted to say more but was unsure how to proceed. “But Annabeth. She was kidnapped last month.”

“What the - why are you here talking to me?” Nico muttered, utterly confused. He had to ignore the sickly feeling building in his stomach. “Shouldn’t you be talking to the police?”

“Oh trust me, I talked to the police,” Percy rolled his eyes. “They think I did it.”

 _That_ was not what Nico expected. “Ok. You have my attention.”

Percy took a deep breath and began telling his story. “Annabeth is an architect. She was out working a job - advising in the design and construction of a new bridge - when someone grabbed her right off the street."

 

"Someone?" Nico thought it was awfully unlikely that just anyone had grabbed her; Annabeth had been one of the most terrifying sparring opponents and the most lethal fighters he'd encountered - and someone had just grabbed her?

 

"Yeah," Percy sighed. "Except that someone looked a hell of a lot like me."

 

"Are you serious?" Nico croaked. _That_ certainly explained why the police thought Percy was responsible.

 

“It definitely looks like me on the security footage. It’s disturbing."

 

Nico stared at him blankly. "There are tapes that put you at the scene of her abduction?"

 

"Yeah. But I was in the Upper East Side picking Galen up at my mother’s - she was a witness for me, putting me at her apartment one minute before Annabeth was kidnapped on Long Island. Thats the only reason they let me go."

 

"The only reason who let you go?! Percy, maybe you should start from the beginning.”

Percy sighed and pulled a toy from his bag, giving it to Galen. The child squealed with glee and stuffed the edge of it in his mouth, chewing happily. “Once upon a time, the NYPD busted into my apartment and arrested me for kidnapping my wife.”

He continued for several minutes, relaying the events that had led up to his arrival on Nico’s doorstep. Nico listened intently, trying not to acknowledge the teenaged part of his mind that was flailing over the fact that Percy was _here_ , in Venice, in his living room. It was completely surreal.

“ . . . I’ll skip over the really long, tedious airplane stories because you don’t really need that, which brings me to knocking on your door. Thank you, by the way, for letting me in. I wasn’t sure . . . with the way we parted last time . . . if you’d let me in.”

“Don’t mention it,” Nico said absently after a moment, his brain buzzing as he processed Percy’s story. It seemed almost unreal, that he’d had to go through so many steps to figure out what to do. “What happened with the police?”

“I was their one and only suspect for a week and a half,” Percy sighed, his gaze focused on Galen, who was bouncing on his knee. “Now there’s a theory that I have a secret evil twin or something, because I clearly couldn’t have done it. Can’t be on two different sets of security footage at the same time in two parts of the city."

Nico reeled from the amount of information that was just being dumped in his lap. He couldn’t imagine dealing with that kind of stress or fear. "It sounds like someone was trying to frame you. Someone with control over the Mist or magic."

"They did a pretty good job of it. The media was all over me."

Nico let his face fall into his hands. "Holy shit, Percy. They had you under surveillance?"

"They released me and I went to hide out at my mother’s apartment. Then I went to camp, and Rachel gave me a lead that eventually led me here."

 

Nico shook his head in disbelief. "I can't go on a quest with you, Percy. I finally got my life together here. You can’t just show up and expect me to jump and go on a quest – I know how much she means to you, and under any other circumstances I would absolutely help you out, but that’s not something I can do right now. I can't subject Dante to a quest."

 

"You know I wouldn't ask you to do this with me unless I was absolutely certain that I couldn't do this. When Hazel said you were living here, I didn't want to come. You've made a life here, and the last thing I want to do is fuck it up and make you hate me even more. But Rachel said the Oracle referenced you specifically and furthermore? You’re the only one I trust to do this with me."

 “No,” Nico said flippantly. “I’m really sorry Percy, but . . . no.”

“I really need your help, man,” Percy pleaded with him.

“You can’t ask me to do this,” Nico hissed back at him. “You can’t just waltz in here after six years and force me back into that world. It’s not fair.”

“It’s not fair that I’m being framed for Annabeth’s kidnap and possible murder, either!” he protested. “Rachel sent me here. I need your help.” Nico could hear the desperation building in his voice. 

Nico ran his fingers through his hair agitatedly. He couldn’t look at Percy’s face and see the desperation there as well.

“I know what I’m asking, I know it’s a lot. And I know you hate my guts and everything, but I trust you.”

Nico blinked owlishly at him. Given their previous interactions, that was fairly high praise from Percy Jackson. “We’ll see about that. Did it really refer to me directly?" he asked miserably.

"There's only one son of Hades," Percy said with a wry smile. “I checked. I really didn’t want to just drop in on you if I wasn’t completely sure, and since the last known sons of Hades died in the forties and fifties, you’re my only hope, Nico di Angelo.”

Nico groaned, wondering wildly just what he was going to tell his boyfriend. The Oracle hadn’t given a traditional prophecy, but Rachel had prompted an answer from it herself, so it was as close to a prophecy as demigods received in this new age of non-prophecy, thanks to Apollo’s disregard for Zeus’ orders. Prophecies both specific and vague were nigh impossible to fight – so there was really no point in fighting it. How was he going to explain this? “There’s a reason I got out of that world, I didn’t want to be part of any quests anymore,” Nico muttered. “I figured the ones I did go on counted for more than enough. This is insane. What am I supposed to tell Dante?”

“You’ll go with me?” Percy asked, immediately perking up.

“That wasn’t a yes,” Nico hissed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I need some time to figure it out.”

“I’m kind of running out of time, though,” Percy nudged.

 “If I do this . . . I need some time to figure out what I’m going to say,” Nico grimaced. “How I’m going to explain this. I can’t just . . . leave. I can’t do that to him.”

“No, I get that. I do, I really do. I’m really sorry to push this on you all of a sudden. It’s not what I wanted to do. I didn’t want to do this.”

Nico paused, somewhat shocked at the brutal honesty behind his tone. He really was truly sorry for coming to Venice to ask him for help; Nico couldn’t help but wonder whether it was completely about not wanting to bother him, as a tiny part of his brain whispered that it was probably more that Percy didn’t want _his_ help. Nico tried to shrug those nagging thoughts off, but it didn’t do much good.

They were still there throughout the delicious breakfast of crepes Dante made, and the somewhat stilted conversation that carried on throughout. Nico kept having to play translator between his boyfriend and Percy, who seemed a little on edge from the tone Dante kept directing at him. Dante was starting to make him angry, which was hard to do; his attitude and his behavior towards Percy were clearly aggressive and defensive, which was not helping any of their moods.

If this was how Dante was acting around Percy now, how was he going to take the fact that Nico had to leave with this other man who Dante clearly felt threatened by? It was starting to give Nico a migraine.

0o0

Percy hadn’t thought it was possible for him to be more overwhelmed. He was still jet-lagged and exhausted after two seven hour flights; he thought he’d knocked on the wrong door, only to discover that the man he’d first encountered was not only Nico’s roommate, but his _boyfriend_ too.  He was still shocked to find out that Nico was gay – or maybe bisexual? Not that those labels mattered at all in the grand scheme of things. He wasn’t sure at all – and living with his boyfriend of apparently seven months. Did Hazel know about this?

Percy was shocked, sure, but seeing how happy Nico was had eased the edge off of his surprise. He remembered the younger, darker Nico vividly – remembered his bitterness, his rage and sorrow. Percy had half expected to see some version of that boy standing on the other side of the portal when he arrived, rather than the handsome, content-looking young man who greeted him.

He’d grown tall – taller than Percy, even, and though he still looked a little thin it was clear that he was at least eating more than a few grapes here and there; the dark circles under his eyes were all but gone, and he’d regained his olive-toned complexion from when he was a kid. His hair was longer too, and Nico looked as though he’d gained a lot of muscle tone – he was still thin and lithe, but his arms definitely looked like they were built from solid corded muscle. The most important change of all though, was that Nico looked _happy._ Percy definitely saw a few laugh lines on his face.

Rather than slamming the door in Percy’s face, Nico let Percy in, introduced him to his boyfriend, and sat down to talk with him about what was happening. Percy wasn’t sure if Dante knew much about him, or if Nico had told Dante about his past, demigods, or the wars he’d been involved with. He had no idea, but they seemed to be living a fairly normal life near Venice. That was a definite plus.

Nico’s boyfriend clearly didn’t like him, though. Percy wasn’t sure if Nico had talked about him at all – he didn’t want to seem self-important or anything – or if Dante was just territorial. Based on Nico’s surreptitious glares and the periodic pinching of Dante’s thigh that occurred after he muttered something in Italian, Percy was going to place bets on the former.

Percy wasn’t really sure how that was supposed to make him feel. He’d done the same thing on some level to Nico when they were younger, sharing his less than stellar opinion with some of the other demigods. After the debacle with Hades, Percy hadn’t felt like Nico was trustworthy at all. He’d amended that somewhat after Nico had fulfilled his promises to bring their friends to the other side of the Doors of Death and to deliver the Athena Parthenos to Camp Half-Blood, but he never had the chance to say that to him. Even after that he’d stayed and helped defend the camp first against Roman legions, then against an army of monsters hoping to take both groups of demigods by surprise. No one had asked him to do those things, and Percy had nurtured a growing respect and admiration for him when various demigods retold the story of the camp’s defense. The prospect of now facing similar treatment years after the fact made something uncomfortable clench in his abdomen.

In the end Percy pulled up his big boy pants and decided he could deal with it. He was intruding on their life, and he’d expected quite a bit of hostility anyway.

(Either way, the obvious language barrier meant that Percy couldn’t accidentally verbally insult Nico’s boyfriend, which was a saving grace – Percy still didn’t really know how to play nice during confrontations.)

Eventually everyone shifted so Nico and Dante were seated on the couch while Percy and Galen settled into the armchair; Dante alternated between a book and his phone, fingers rapidly texting while Nico and Percy discussed the logistics of the impending quest in English. Nico clearly felt awkward about deliberately conversing outside of Dante’s comfort zone, though part of his discomfort might have had something to do with his boyfriend’s behavior.

Just a hunch.

0o0

“Have you thought about what you’ll say?” Percy asked, glancing over at Dante – who seemed perfectly at ease with Beatrice sprawled across his shoulders (Nico had explained that the cat was a female Maine Coon mix, a gift from Dante’s sister Caterina). She looked like a fierce thing, kneading her paws against Dante’s chest while he read and stroked her back. Every once in a while, Nico caught Dante glancing furtively at Percy, his brow furrowing in some dark emotion before looking away again – and after each of those moments Dante would put his hand on Nico’s arm or against his back, just to touch.

Now, Nico didn’t mind Dante touching him; he enjoyed it, and welcomed his touch in a way he only did for those whom he trusted implicitly. Dante was one of the few people he allowed in his personal space like this, but his behavior was starting to throw up red flags for Nico. They had never really been in a situation like this before, but he could sense Dante’s unease and frustration from miles away – and he never acted this possessively in front of other people. He was being overly touchy in a way that screamed overcompensation, and that didn’t sit well with Nico in the slightest.

He liked it when Dante touched him, but not for the sake of showing off. So after nearly two hours of going back and forth like this, after Percy posed that question and Dante rubbed the back of Nico’s neck, Nico grabbed his wrist and gently guided it away. He gave Dante a firm look, which was answered by one of festering confusion.

“No,” Nico answered evenly. “But I’ll think of something.”

Not long after that exchange, Nico got up to use the bathroom and unsurprisingly, Dante followed him. After Nico finished up in the bathroom, Dante grabbed his arm and tugged him into their bedroom before closing the door behind them.

 _“What the hell is wrong with you?”_ Nico hissed once their bedroom door was shut.

 _“What is going on between you two?”_ Dante demanded almost immediately.

 _“Nothing is going on! He’s a,”_ Nico waved his hands around as he searched for the right terminology for him and Percy. It was hard to find the appropriate word, because while he considered them allies they really weren’t more than that. _“Friend,”_ he settled on. _“Just a friend.”_

 _“You had feelings for him though. And you didn’t tell me he was hot,”_ Dante muttered grumpily. _“I’m not even competition.”_

 _“Oh my gods - he’s not a threat to you!”_ Nico shot back incredulously. _“He’s straight – gleefully and devotedly married, I might add, and did you notice that he has a baby? I know his wife, they are so focused on each other I was never even a blip on his radar!”_

_“But you loved him – and he hurt you, you told me yourself.”_

_“He didn’t know, and I promised myself he would never know!”_ Nico cried, feeling helpless against Dante’s surge of jealousy and insecurity. _“Please, you have to understand – I was terrified of him finding out how I felt. I never even wanted him to know I was gay, and it took everything I had just to be honest with him earlier. He was . . . he’s my friend, Dante. Percy was never an option for me.”_

Dante fell silent and pensive. _“Why is he here?”_

 _“His wife is missing,”_ Nico said, exhaustion creeping into his voice. _“He asked for my help to find her.”_

 _“That’s terrible,”_ Dante said, the information shocking him out of his anger and evoking his empathy. _“Why would he ask you, though? The police in America can’t help him?”_

 _“He thinks that someone we both knew took her,”_ Nico invented. _“He thinks I can help. I have to try. They thought he was responsible for a while, so he doesn’t trust the police to figure it out.”_

_“Why you, though?”_

Nico shrugged. _“He ran out of options, I think. He said he didn’t want to come here and bother us, but he had nowhere else to go.”_

Dante dropped heavily on the edge of their bed, tipping his face into his hands. _“I’m an ass.”_

 _“I won’t argue with that,”_ Nico said fondly, going to stand in front of Dante; he allowed his boyfriend to pull him closer by his hips, and for Dante to rest his forehead against Nico’s neck comfortably. Nico combed his fingers through his thick, dark hair in a comforting gesture.

_“I’m sorry. I’m an idiot.”_

_“Apparently I have a type,”_ Nico snorted, rubbing Dante’s shoulders comfortingly. _“Can we try this again? He’s not here to steal me away, though I will have to go with him to help. I’m not – he’s not what I want anymore.”_

Dante tilted his head up to meet his eyes. _“I’ll be nicer. I promise.”_

 _“Thank you,_ ” Nico whispered, leaning in to press a kiss to his forehead.

0o0

After his talk with Nico, Dante felt like the rest of the night went fairly well. He still couldn’t understand what they were talking about, but he did his best to curb his desire to remind this stranger of his presence and position. Nico seemed to appreciate the extra space, though he did periodically reach over and grasp Nico’s hand just to hold it. That earned him a small smile from Nico.

Nico offered their couch up to Percy for the night, and after some wrangling and negotiation Percy agreed. Dante and Nico made some dinner while Percy and Galen began nesting on the couch – it was clear that Percy was utterly exhausted, and the baby was getting fussy and anxious too. Dante had walked in on Percy feeding Galen from a bottle, whispering sadly to the small child; he’d left as fast as he could, feeling like he was intruding on something.

It was later in the night when Dante woke to the sound of a baby fussing. His eyes flew open, and he was immediately awake and alert; the response had been ingrained in him after his mother gave birth to twin girls not long after his fifth birthday, and as one of ‘Mama’s helpers’ he became responsible for feeding his younger siblings when Mama was about to collapse from exhaustion.

Nico was still sound asleep despite the thin walls and loud sobs, his side pressed flush to Dante’s back as he snored softly into his pillow. He was a deep sleeper, to the point where Dante had been worried on more than one occasion, and that allowed him to continue his blissful, uninterrupted sleep. Dante couldn’t begrudge him that – it had been an emotionally taxing day for Nico especially, so he had no qualms about letting him sleep while he went to go investigate Percy’s baby.

Percy was awake and walking around, bouncing the clearly unhappy child gently in his arms, and Dante felt a pang of sympathy for the guy. If what Nico had told him was true, Percy’s wife had been missing for nearly two weeks – and the press had gotten wind of it, wasting no time to pin the blame on Nico’s old friend. Suddenly the sole caregiver of a young child, Percy looked even more haggard by the light of a small lamp they’d left beside the couch. He was cooing something to the baby, but the eight-month old wasn’t having it.

Then Percy turned and jumped when he saw Dante standing in the hall; he was speaking too quickly, so Dante couldn’t totally understand what he was saying, but he got the gist that Percy was probably apologizing for Galen waking him up. Dante shook his head absently, then took another few steps and held his arms out in a silent offer to take the child.

After a moment of hesitation, Percy handed Galen over; Dante adjusted him in his arms like he’d done so many times with his baby sisters and began to sing a lullaby his mother had taught him. He watched as Galen – who was pretty big for eight months, he thought to himself – stopped scrunching his face up and slowly relaxed, until he was only making little uncomfortable sounds, without the wailing. Dante rubbed his back gently, in slow, soothing circles, until Galen burbled something and tucked his face into his shirt, covering it in drool.

Percy was staring at him with newfound admiration; Dante ceased singing, but continued rubbing relaxing circles into Galen’s back as he searched for the right English words. He almost never had to use English in town, so he’d never really taken to it in school – but he had some basic vocabulary and could improvise his messages if he needed.

“I have,” he said, furrowing his brow as he concentrated, thinking back to the basic lessons he had as a child. “Three sisters.” Then he reached down closer to the ground with one hand, palm parallel to the floor, and looked up at Percy to see if he understood.

“Oh,” Percy muttered after a moment. “Younger?” he supplied, speaking a little slower so Dante didn’t lose the words.

Dante nodded, smiling at the other man. Maybe Nico had once harbored feelings for this guy, but he didn’t seem that bad – despite some of the stories Nico had told him. Maybe he’d grown out of the careless attitude Nico had described and had finally grown up. Dante felt himself wishing that there was more that he could do aside from nod and agree to support Nico’s decision to help him, that he could help more.

“Are you the oldest?” Percy asked.

Dante shook his head after a moment. “I have six brothers and sisters.”

“Wow,” Percy chuckled.

Dante shrugged, smiling. “I was fourth,” he said after a few seconds of contemplation.

“I have a younger brother. Tyson.” Percy stared at him avidly, his gaze flickering between his face and Galen’s scrunched up expression. “You’re really great with kids.”

“Babies,” Dante corrected. The older the children got, the harder it was for him to deal with them.

“Interested in babysitting?” the other man joked, offering him a small smile.

Dante lifted one shoulder in response, and they fell into companionable silence while Galen mumbled in his sleep. Dante wasn’t really sure what to say at all to this man; he still wasn’t entirely convinced that Percy hadn’t come to sweep Nico away after so many years, and while he and Nico had come to an understanding it was still difficult to bring himself to trust the other man. And yet, the story that Nico had relayed tugged at his heart. Percy had lost someone (hopefully only temporarily) whom he cared for very deeply; he’d been accused and blamed and harassed, all while trying to take care of his child on his own. Dante couldn’t imagine dealing with that kind of loss, especially not while expecting himself to do something about it.

In the end Dante really didn’t know what to say – and he wasn’t sure he could accurately convey the words he wished he could without making a fool of himself, so they remained in somewhat comfortable silence until Galen fell asleep in Dante’s arms.

When he looked up he found Percy staring at him, mouth parted and brows furrowed as if he’d been thinking and was readying himself to speak; when he met Dante’s gaze however, Percy schooled his face into a quieter smile, and gently took Galen when Dante held him out.

“Thank you,” Percy whispered, settling back against the pillows, looking even more exhausted than before.

Dante nodded and smiled, pushing himself back to his feet and padding back into their bedroom, where Nico had unconsciously taken advantage of the open, warm space that Dante’s body had previously vacated. Dante snorted to himself and gently rolled Nico’s starfished form over so Dante could slip in beside him. Still dead asleep, Nico snuffled and rolled right back into his space tucked against Dante’s chest. After his encounter with Percy, Dante felt quite a bit lighter and less anxious, and with less worries weighing on him he pressed a kiss to the crown of Nico’s head and fell asleep quickly.

 


	4. Part 2 Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning could go better.
> 
> Going bed Nico had very low expectations for how the next day would go, between telling Dante he had to leave and lying around his explanation, but he hoped that it wouldn’t be a complete disaster.
> 
> But with Percy Jackson involved, Nico really should have known better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) For everyone who has been messaging/commenting about what Dante's reaction to Nico's big secret will be . . . well. Here we go. 
> 
> 2) Thank you all for the comments! I love reading them and you're all so wonderful, I'm incredibly glad you're enjoying this fic :)
> 
> 3) If you have questions/want to chat/ask about other fics or what have you, you can find me on tumblr at darthvair-65. I try to answer all my asks, so come chat if you'd like~

Chapter 3

The morning could go better.

Going bed Nico had very low expectations for how the next day would go, between telling Dante he had to leave and lying around his explanation, but he hoped that it wouldn’t be a _complete_ disaster.

But with Percy Jackson involved, Nico really should have known better.

It’s a shit storm from the start, because all three of them are awoken by sharp, high-pitched screeching – but as Nico stumbled out of bed in his underwear and an old, faded black shirt, he was sure that only he recognized the sound. There had never been any talk of Percy facing off against Orion and his hounds. Nico still heard it from time to time in his nightmares; the haunting howls were ingrained in his memory from his and Reyna’s eventful trip with the Athena Parthenos. He’d hear their hunting calls and feel their claws rip and tear at his flesh, hitting their mark for once, only to wake in a cold sweat unharmed.

He felt a horrible, sickening feeling surge in his stomach when he saw Dante wake in a panic, demanding to know what the hell that sound was. The Mist wasn’t going to be able to keep him shielded for long, not if he and Percy were going to be fighting off a pack of hounds in such a small space.

Immediately Nico rolled out of bed and reached for the bedside table, unlocking it frantically, while both Percy and Dante started shouting his name – in desperation and confusion, respectively. Triumphantly, Nico unsheathed his long-hidden Stygian Iron sword (disguised as an umbrella beside their bed) and pointedly ignored the terrified look on Dante’s face when he turned to look at him.

 _“Stay here,”_ he hissed. _“Lock the door behind me.”_

 _“Why do you have a sword?”_ Dante asked, staring at the blade with wide eyes.

_“I promise I’ll explain everything. I promise.”_

Then he left, leaving Dante shouting his name as the door slammed shut. The living room was already in chaos, Percy’s sword Riptide slicing through a snarling wolf while Galen wailed from his place tucked into Percy’s side. Nico charged forward and took a swipe at another while it was focused on the son of Poseidon, who was still in his pajamas.

“This is the first monster I’ve had to deal with in _years!_ ” Nico hissed. “Hazel’s magic always threw them off my scent!”

Percy didn’t answer for a moment, too focused on his own battle and protecting his son at the same time. “I’m sorry,” he grunted, skewering a second wolf. “I really am, you have to know that-“

“I do, Percy, I do, but that doesn’t change _that Orion’s hounds are in the living room_.”

“Wait, whose?” Percy asked, confirming Nico’s suspicions. He had no idea what was coming for them.

While Nico might not have had to fight off monsters at every turn for a few years, fighting came back to him easily. He hadn’t been skimping out on training in a way, as he’d taken a few fencing and martial arts classes when he had the drive, but fighting something that had every intention of killing you was still vastly different from sparring with another person. It just took a little bit longer for him to get the hang of everything once again.

When the hounds were all either dispatched or bolting back towards their master, Nico bent over and rested his hands on his knees, breathing hard. He and Percy were both covered in scratches and bite barks, and he really didn’t have any ambrosia hanging around to heal both of them.

“Whose hounds were those?” Percy demanded again.

“Orion,” he gasped. “The hunter.”

“The constellation?”

Nico gave him a withering look. “The monster, you idiot. Those were his hunting hounds. They’ll be back, and they’ll bring Orion with them. This,” he hissed, “is your fault.”

Percy scowled at him.

“How am I going to explain this to Dante?”

“You seriously haven’t told him you’re a demigod yet?” Percy hissed, eyes widening in shock. “You haven’t told him about any of this?”

“No!” Nico snapped back loudly, before bringing his volume down again. “I was trying to protect him – and up until yesterday, I was doing a damn good job of it. I wasn’t ready to tell him yet!”

“ _That_ is not my fault. The dogs . . . that’s probably my fault. We need to get out of here.”

Nico dragged his fingers through his hair. “Fuck. This – this is why I couldn’t be around you,” Nico said, bordering on hysteria. “All you have to do is show up and – and everything I’ve been working on is ruined.”

“I’m sorry,” Percy said, which really only made Nico angrier.

“Lot of good that’s doing!” he snarled, stalking down the hall and away from Percy. “Get your stuff together. I’ll see if I can get Dante to come with us.”

Just before he got to their bedroom door, Nico hesitated with his hand on the door knob. Heart still throbbing with adrenaline, his fears about Dante’s reaction to his revelation were climbing by the second. Steeling himself, Nico turned the knob – only to realize that Dante must have put a chair under the other knob, because the door wouldn’t budge.

 _“Dante – babe, it’s me,”_ he said, knocking on the door – probably a little too forcefully, but if Orion was right on their heels they would need to go soon. _“Dante! Let me in.”_

Nico heard the distinct sound of chair legs scraping along the floor, and the door opened up to Dante’s wary expression. _“What the hell just happened? Are you alright?”_

Briefly Nico contemplated how to phrase his response. ‘We were just attacked by hounds belonging to a mythical hunter’ was too blunt and Dante would probably think he was utterly insane. ‘We were attacked’ was vague and misleading, really – and it wouldn’t explain why they weren’t calling the police. There really wasn’t a good way to go about this, Nico decided. _“Someone broke in and attacked us. We need to leave now,”_ he said, trying for calm. _“I need you to pack a small bag so we can leave quickly.”_

Dante stared at him blankly. _“You’re fucking kidding me.”_

_“No, but I wish I was. Please? Can you do that? We really don’t have time to argue about it.”_

His boyfriend continued to stare at him with narrowed eyes, even as he turned towards their small closet and bureau. Nico grabbed a pair of black pants out of the laundry basket and tugged them on, his hands shaking with nerves. Socks and shoes came next, before he grabbed the gold pocket watch Dante had given him, carefully putting it in his pocket. Dante was uncharacteristically silent through all of this, but Nico didn’t want to say anything. He was practically on autopilot now. Nico dropped next to his side of their bed and reached underneath it, tugging out a dusty black bag he’d been carrying for years now – his emergency kit, packed with clothes and the few necessities he required, then left Dante to his packing without another word. When he got into the living room, Percy was strapping Galen into his backpack; the rest of his belongings seemed to be packed and ready to go, so Nico went through his mental list of things to take care of before leaving.

He paused on Beatrice.

He hadn’t seen Dante’s cat since the previous night, and she hadn’t been hiding under the bed – but there was now a hole in one of their windows from where the hounds broke through, big enough for a rather large feline to slip through. To make matters worse, Beatrice had been an outdoor cat before. She was probably already wreaking havoc on the neighborhood’s pigeon population.

Dante was going to be pissed.

The man in question slammed their bedroom door and walked out into the living room, where Nico and Percy were waiting. _“Where are we going?”_ Dante asked, his tone flinty and expression closed off.

Nico looked to Percy, who shrugged. “I’d suggest one of the camps, but I really don’t think that’s the best idea for you to try.”

“That would be inadvisable,” Nico agreed, shuddering at the memory of losing time and feeling altogether. He’d been sure he would die then. _“We’re figuring that out,”_ he said to Dante.

 _“I can call Mama,”_ Dante suggested, shrugging. _“We could stay on their couch.”_

Nico frowned. That wasn’t going to work – he couldn’t put Dante’s family in that kind of danger. He was already putting Dante himself in too much danger for him to be comfortable.

When he didn’t respond, it clearly sent a bad message to Dante. _“I don’t know what’s going on anymore,”_ Dante hissed pleadingly. _“I don’t understand, Nico.”_

“Shit,” Nico breathed. This was a lot harder than he thought it would be.

Then Percy nudged Nico with his elbow. “I think we need to go. We should go,” he said, staring out the already broken window.

Nico whipped around, following Percy’s line of sight, and cursed. The hounds were back, coming at them fast – and this time, a large shadowed figure followed them from behind. Nico stared, his whole body freezing.

They needed to get out. They needed to get out _now._

“Percy! Dante!” he screamed, backing away from the window. “We need to go!”

“Are you sure about this?” Percy shouted, moving in to Nico’s side while Nico beckoned Dante to do the same.

“No,” Nico breathed, staring as the hounds bounded closer through the courtyard. Dante was yelling – Nico wondered what he was seeing, if he could understand how scared he was – but Nico ignored him in favor of sliding Reaper back into its scabbard and taking a deep breath, preparing himself for the most ambitious jump in years. He grabbed hold of Dante and Percy’s wrists, and pulled the shadows around them, thinking only of Camp Jupiter.

He hadn’t Shadow traveled like this in years – since he’d first started learning, and accidentally took himself to China when he’d been aiming for the town over. Nico was accustomed to small jumps that at most took him a hundred miles at a time, and was familiar with the bone-deep exhaustion he felt in the aftermath. A mere second or two into the emergency trip, Nico could already feel his strength slipping away. He forced himself to concentrate and maintain his focus, because the last thing he wanted was to drop the four of them in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean – though he was sure Percy could manage to get them to shore easily, what would they do with his unconscious body after that, when they were stranded in the middle of nowhere? No, Nico would get them to the safety of Camp Jupiter. Hazel and Reyna would take care of them from there. He kept pushing further through the shadows, all while the spirits of the dead clawed and tugged at him, begging for his attention now that he was in their realm. Nico refused to pay them any mind, and kept going until their destination was the only thought he could produce.

0o0

As soon as he felt Nico’s hand on his arm, Dante felt like he was hanging out the window of a Maserati going double the speed limit, darkness and wind pushing against him like he was in a space shuttle on its way through the atmosphere. His arm felt like it was being torn from its socket and the flesh bruised from Nico’s grip; he couldn’t see the others, but he could hear Galen’s high-pitched screams as they tore through the shadows. Then, seconds later the feeling abruptly stopped and he felt his stomach rocket into the space his lungs once occupied; his feet hit grass, and he tumbled before he could regain his balance. His stomach roiled, and he wanted to throw up. Dante blinked, noticing that they'd landed in a grassy field; a set of buildings that looked suspiciously like the Roman forum stood nearby, illuminated only by the light of a full moon.

 

Where the fuck where they?

 

He heard Percy shouting, probably for help, but Dante’s only thought was of Nico. He hadn’t had time to process what was happening while he was locked in their bedroom – he only knew that Nico’s actions were both alarming and frightening, and the look in his eyes was totally alien to the Nico he’d come to know and care about. His anger returned in full force: Nico, who had clearly been keeping secrets from him this whole time, who hid swords disguised as umbrellas in their bedroom and fought strange monsters alongside his ‘old friend’ – and then transported them from one place to another.

 

Then he remembered that Nico was holding him, and he felt his boyfriend shaking. He heard Percy curse on Nico’s other side, and Nico crumpled between them.

 

His anger notwithstanding, Nico crumbling in an unconscious heap triggered something in his head, and before Dante could stop and remember his anger he dropped down beside him to shake Nico's shoulder. He reached out, but his hands went right through Nico’s skin like he was a ghost, or a shadow. "What's wrong with him?" he tried to ask Percy, who had knelt down near Nico's head. Percy said something, but Dante couldn't understand. His limited English didn't include those words. Dante tried again, feeling himself start to panic when he couldn’t touch Nico once again. What was wrong? He was clearly right there in front of him, unconscious and unresponsive, looking incredibly pale and sickly, but Dante couldn’t shake him at all.

Percy shouted something, but Dante didn’t want to focus on that; he saw that dark circles had bloomed under Nico’s eyes – like those he hadn’t seen on him in nearly a year. After a few moments Nico took a deep, shuddering breath, his body jerking; he didn’t wake up, but with that breath his skin was completely solid again. Dante didn’t know how to rationalize what had just happened to his boyfriend or _how_ it had happened, but he pushed that aside to put his fingers against Nico’s throat. His heartbeat was still steady, but his skin was cold and clammy. Dante shook him harder, calling his name over and over to no avail; Percy came over and tried to put his hand on Dante’s shoulder, but he shook it off, focusing only on the unconscious man beneath him.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dante could see swiftly moving feet, but he couldn’t focus on anything but Nico’s unresponsive, slack face.

Suddenly he felt himself being jerked upwards by a strong hand gripping his upper arm like a vice, dragging him up and away; Dante tried to break away from their grasp, but his captor shook him hard, turning him and forcing Dante to look – her – in the eyes. Someone nearby had lit a lantern, allowing Dante to see her fully: the woman holding him captive was tall and statuesque, radiating overwhelming power and prestige; her eyes were piercing and dark, and her thick black hair was twisted into a long braid that was draped over her shoulder. Dante felt his face screw up in confusion as he glanced over her – she was dressed in pajamas, a dark purple tank top and soft-looking grey pants, but also wore gold earrings, bracelets, and sandals. She frowned at him as she spoke in English, before switching to Spanish after a moment; he gaped at her, his mind swirling with confusion and desperation, wondering why Nico wasn’t responding to him. As she held him tightly, several other strangers knelt beside Nico’s body – then he was being lifted gently onto a stretcher.

 

 _"My name is Reyna,"_ the woman said slowly; Spanish and Italian were in the same family, so he had to focus on what she was trying to say. _"You're a friend of Nico's?"_

 

 _"His boyfriend,"_ Dante corrected her, not bothering to slow his speech. _"What is going on? Is Nico ok? Where the hell are we?"_

 

Reyna looked momentarily bewildered as she mentally translated his rapid fire questions. _"Nico will be ok. He used a lot of power to get you and Percy here, and that drains him. He needs rest. I promise he'll be fine."_

 

 _"He doesn't,"_ Dante started, staring as two other men carried Nico away, _"he doesn't like being touched by people he doesn't know,"_ he muttered helplessly.

 

 _"I know,"_ Reyna said, rubbing his arm reassuringly. _"But I've been over this with him. He's in good hands."_

 

 _"You know him?"_ Dante demanded. Nico had never mentioned anyone named Reyna in the two years he'd known him.

 

Reyna cocked her head at him. _"Since he was thirteen, yeah."_

 

Dante felt like he'd been socked in the gut. This was someone from Nico's past, like Percy. Had he arrived in a place that had once been Nico's home? _"Where are we?"_

 

 _"California,"_ Reyna answered patiently. _"New Rome, to be specific.”_

 _“California?!”_ Dante yelped. _“How did we get to California?”_

Reyna was looking at him with a calculating gaze. _“Nico brought you here. He travels by the shadows sometimes. I don’t think he’s done a jump like that in years, though.”_

Dante finally jerked out of Reyna’s grasp, staring at the scenery wildly, trying to process everything that had happened. Somehow they’d made a very fast and frightening trip to the United States through _shadows_? What the hell was she talking about?

He didn’t even have time to process that he was starting to hyperventilate when he felt an overwhelming sense of exhaustion suddenly fall over him, and he collapsed on the ground in a deep sleep.

0o0

Will Solace was a sight for sore eyes on their arrival, and Percy thanked every deity that would listen for the son of Apollo’s presence when they arrived in New Rome. Will was one of several demigods from Camp Half-Blood who’d decided to take the opportunity and study at the university in New Rome; he often mentioned that it was exactly what he thought a study abroad would be like whenever Percy visited. Now, Percy was infinitely grateful for that decision because he was the only healer in the area that had experience dealing with Nico’s Shadow traveling-induced comas. During the battle against Gaea and Octavian, Will and Nico had apparently worked together to keep Octavian and his armies at bay, but not before Nico had nearly collapsed upon his arrival in camp; Will, being the healer in charge at the time, had been the one to nurse him back to relative health before Nico ultimately disappeared.

Percy filled Will in on the situation as they followed the stretcher carrying Nico, while carrying a now-unconscious Dante between them. Will’s mouth turned downwards when he heard about their point of origin, and Percy could easily read the lines of worry on his face.

“He’s lucky he was able to make that jump,” he murmured, “especially carrying three passengers.”

“He made it to China once though,” Percy pointed out, leaving out the whole part of that story where Nico did it on accident.

“He nearly died making that kind of trip years ago, when he was carrying the Athena Parthenos. By the time he got to Camp Half-Blood he was almost a shadow himself,” Will said quietly, remembering the day. “I just hope I can wake him up again this time. Who’s this guy?”

“Dante, Nico’s boyfriend,” Percy grunted, hefting the young Italian man higher off the ground. “I think he was starting to freak when we got here.”

Will’s eyebrows shot to the top of his forehead. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

When they reached the infirmary, Will directed those carrying Nico to place him in a secluded bed with lots of shade and blankets, while he and Percy transferred Dante to a comfortable cot. Then, once they were satisfied that Dante seemed comfortable in his Hypnos-induced sleep, they made their way back to check on the son of Hades.

Percy really didn’t like the look of Nico right now – not after seeing him healthy and fit in his apartment not a few hours ago. Now he looked like a corpse.

Will didn’t show any outward signs of anxiety, but Percy caught his fingers shaking while he felt for Nico’s pulse. With a frown carved even deeper on his mouth, Will readjusted his stance with one hand on Nico’s forehead and another right in the center of his chest. A warm glow permeated from both points, pulsing for a few seconds before retreating. Will removed the hand from Nico’s chest and visibly sagged under the weight of something tremendous; when Percy went to his side he could see that Will’s brow was dripping with sweat and that he had started to take on the pale, peaked look Nico had been displaying while the son of Hades looked several shades healthier.

“Is he alright?” Percy asked, adjusting Galen in his arms. He’d been screaming earlier, but now he seemed to have exhausted to the point of hiccupping sobs.

“How loosely do you define ‘alright’?” Will asked wryly. “He’ll be ok soon enough. He needs lots of rest – don’t be surprised if he doesn’t wake up until tomorrow night. That took a lot out of him.”

Percy sat heavily in his chair, peering over at Nico’s pale, wan face. Now that he’d seen Nico at his best, happy and healthy, this image made something clench uncomfortably in Percy’s chest.

“In the meantime,” Will began warily, “I’d be more worried about him,” he said, nodding in Dante’s direction. “We can’t keep him sleeping forever. I overheard him talking to Reyna – does he speak any English?”

Percy frowned, looking at Dante’s sleeping form contemplatively. “Some, but not a lot. And to make this even worse, Nico never told him about,” Percy waved his arms in a circular pattern, “all of this. He has no idea what’s going on.”

Will whistled. “This is going to suck.”

Will was, of course, correct: once Dante woke mid afternoon he began demanding answers out of Percy and Reyna (Percy had to assume he was asking things like ‘what the fuck is going on’ and ‘how did we get here’ among other things, based on his body language and facial expressions alone). Reyna handled his questions for the most part, struggling to keep up given their language barrier, until they found a member of the fifth cohort who spoke fluent Italian and could act as his translator for the time being. From that point on Dante was able to make himself clear – abundantly and frustratingly so.

It was difficult to convey answers to him when largely, Percy thought this part should have been done one on one with Nico himself. He felt like he was betraying Nico’s trust to a degree as they tried to answer Dante’s questions without giving too much information away; there were some stories that were only Nico’s to tell, and Percy had to remind himself that he had to stay in the middle, had to make sure Nico maintained his voice despite the growing annoyance Dante was displaying.

While Nico seemed to slowly recover from his coma, Reyna and Frank began pulling strings. As a mortal with no ties whatsoever to the Roman or Greek gods, he should have been cast out permanently. Reyna had assured Percy that that was not going to happen since it wasn’t his fault that he’d been brought there, and that she was taking steps to procure him an apartment for the time being.

The prospects of better living arrangements didn’t seem to faze Dante, who oscillated between bouts of frustrated anger and utter confusion and shock. He refused to leave the infirmary, even when Reyna offered him a more comfortable place to stay; instead Dante curled up on a chaise he’d dragged in from the foyer, keeping vigil over Nico’s sleeping form. His mouth was turned down in a frown even as he wiped sweat from Nico’s forehead, and he only vaguely reacted when Will or Percy came in.

 The next evening Percy sat opposite Dante, bouncing Galen on his knee while the little boy cooed and made grabby hands towards the pensive Italian; he’d been watching Dante furtively for over an hour now, and Percy came to the conclusion that the poor guy had settled into total shock. Not only had he been told that his boyfriend was part god, but he’d been unknowingly dragged through the shadows – away from his home and family, no less – to a camp halfway around the world, and that was finally beginning to truly sink in. He saw worry, trepidation, and anger make their appearances in his expression, and Percy understood a bit of what was going through his mind. Ten years may have passed, but he could still remember what it was like to be dragged into camp after being attacked and watching his mother get vaporized. It was a shock, but Dante wasn’t even a demigod. Technically, he shouldn’t have even made it past Camp Jupiter’s boundaries.

They probably had Nico’s well-established reputation as a demigod you just don’t fuck around with to thank for that.

Dante rubbed his face with his hands agitatedly again, and Percy sighed. Even if he could assuage Dante’s worries at all, it wasn’t his place to explain or tell Nico’s story. Then again, Percy didn’t know Nico’s story well enough, so he couldn’t even if he wanted to.

“For what it’s worth . . . I’m really sorry,” Percy said.

If Dante understood him, he didn’t give any indication.

 


	5. Part 2 Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dante felt like he’d been seething for days now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to split this chapter up because it was ENORMOUS. So while this chapter might seem short, the next part will make up for it.

Chapter 4

Part 1

Dante felt like he’d been seething for days now.

It was easier – brooding and raging inside his head, that is – to rail against Nico when his boyfriend was unconscious and no one even understood the words he snarled when he was left alone with Nico’s sleeping form. It was so easy to be angry at Nico when the other man couldn’t defend himself against the words he hissed to himself.

It took more will than he wanted to admit not to break down whenever he truly allowed himself to _look_ at Nico’s unconscious form. The crash that followed, whenever he just stopped and looked, made Dante feel sick to his stomach. What kind of person was he, that he could let his anger fester until it felt disgusting and oily, right beneath his skin. He was exactly the kind of person he hated growing up, so determined to punish someone who could not defend themselves against his abhorrent words.

The first time his anger abated was when a beautiful young woman with dark skin and long, curly dark hair swept into the room; her arrival broke Dante out of his dark thoughts simply due to the fact that Percy – sitting quietly with his son at the time – suddenly straightened in his seat and gulped rather loudly. He wondered briefly if this woman frightened Percy, until he realized that that was absolutely the case when he glimpsed her terrifyingly stony expression. He watched, morbidly fascinated, as Percy practically shriveled in his seat at her withering glare.

The woman spared barely a few seconds on intimidating Percy, her attention quickly shifting to Nico; her harsh expression melted instantly to one of sadness and regret. She sat on the edge of Nico’s bed gently, reaching out and brushing a lock of his dark hair from his eyes – a tender gesture that forced Dante’s recognition within seconds: he was finally going to meet Nico’s sister, Hazel. It was surreal; he’d heard quite a bit about her from Nico, and he would be lying if he said she didn’t intrigue him. Here was someone Nico cared for completely and without any sort of reticence; she was his confidant, his best friend, an enigma . . . and based on her reactions, she was well-versed in Nico’s secrets. If nothing else, she was highly familiar with this place, this camp they’d arrived in. She was part of the world and of Nico’s past that he’d deliberately kept from him, and the realization stung harshly.

Dante must have drifted off in his thoughts again, because not a moment later a warm, smooth hand brushed over his clenched fists, startling him. Hazel was just in his view, looking at him with a sympathetic expression as she sat beside him.

“You’re Hazel,” he heard himself say, as if he was removed from everything that was happening, and he was listening in from afar.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dante saw Hazel’s sad smile break into something brighter and more radiant. “And you’re Dante,” she confirmed, squeezing his hand until he clasped hers in return.

They sat in quiet, companionable silence for a while longer, keeping their silent vigil over Nico. She left only briefly when Percy disappeared to change Galen’s diaper, and returned looking even more fretful than before. When she sat down beside him once again, Hazel rubbed Dante’s shoulder reassuringly, though he barely noticed. He was starting to realize that yes, he absolutely was in a state of shock.

Nothing changed for hours on end; Nico slept on, ignorant of Dante’s fury, while Hazel, Will, Percy, and various other denizens of New Rome came and went while Dante tried not to let the hints about Nico’s former life push him too far. Each person who came to visit or check up on them was another little cut; a reminder of Nico’s seemingly full life here that he hadn’t seen fit to tell Dante about at all. He wanted to ask Hazel question after question, but he couldn’t find the words to convey them; so he fumed silently, his mind conjuring up all sorts of (likely fictional) backstories and memories Nico shared with these people.

When Nico finally began to stir early the next morning, Dante left the room to find the young man who’d been treating both of them. Dante was wary of Will, who was above all a stranger though he and Nico also seemed to have a shared – but brief – history, if he interpreted the long gazes and deep frowns correctly. He felt like an outsider, one who merely tagged along and accidentally discovered Nico’s secret world. Part of him knew that it wasn’t really like that at all, but he couldn’t help but sink deeper and deeper into the sickening darkness that had already begun to take over.

Will returned to the lobby about fifteen minutes later, grabbing Dante’s wrist and tugging him along, grumbling something under his breath. He practically shoved Dante back into Nico’s secluded room, causing him to stumble back through the threshold.

Dante swallowed thickly, his eyes fixed on Nico’s now that they were open. He radiated exhaustion, a sensation Dante felt keenly without the added sight of the dark bruises beneath his eyes or the sallow, sunken quality his skin had taken on.

Will said something Dante didn’t quite catch, but he sounded maybe just as frustrated as Dante felt. He saw Nico flinch at the words, and wondered just what Will had said.

Dante folded his arms across his chest as he heard Nico say his name for the first time in days, his voice rough with disuse. He looked away, and kept his distance. _“Are you alright?”_ he asked. At least he hoped his tone was diplomatic if he couldn’t bring himself to behave in the same way.

Nico lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “ _Better than I was. Still not great, but . . .”_ he let the words trail off, and they hung awkwardly in the silence that stretched between them. Eventually Nico sighed again heavily, picking at the blanket pooled around his body. _“I’m sure you have a lot of questions.”_

Dante choked back a hysterical laugh. _“I don’t even know where to start,”_ Dante said, cringing at how small his tone sounded to his own ears.

 _“Whatever comes to mind first,”_ Nico suggested wearily.

 _“What the hell was all that?”_ Dante demanded after a moment of pacing in their bedroom, gathering his thoughts. _“And don’t lie – you pulled a sword out of an umbrella, Nico. I heard screeching, and Percy had a sword too. Then you brought us here, and I still don’t understand how. I thought –“_ he cut himself off, raking fingers through his curly hair. _“I don’t know what I thought.”_

Nico took a deep, shuddering breath. _“Maybe you should sit?”_ he suggested, swallowing thickly.

 _“I don’t want to!”_ Dante protested, gesticulating angrily. _“I don’t understand what’s going on, and it’s making me angry.”_

 _“Then sit for me,”_ Nico pleaded with him. _“You’re making me anxious.”_

Dante leveled him with a blunt stare for a few moments after that, debating whether he cared that he was making Nico anxious or not and if he wanted to make a comment about Nico’s anxiety as opposed to his own. In the end, he gave in and sat, crossing his arms over his chest to express his intense annoyance. _“Say what you have to say. Help me understand.”_

Nico opened his mouth and began to talk, hesitantly and unsure of himself. He was trying, Dante knew, but the words he spoke clashed with each other and he found himself even more profoundly confused and frustrated. He just wasn’t making _sense,_ all this talk of monsters and magic and death, like he was walking out of a young adult fantasy novel. It was absurd to his ears, and after a few minutes Dante couldn’t listen to another moment of his bullshit. Nico only stopped short when he saw Dante shaking his head vigorously.

 _“You’re insane,”_ he whispered. _“You can’t actually expect me to believe that.”_

 _“It’s the truth,”_ Nico insisted.

Dante fell silent for several moments, his mind at war with itself as he tried to reconcile the Nico he lo – cared for, with the ‘truth’ the other man presented to him. The two didn’t seem compatible at all. _“It’s all lies, then,”_ he muttered, and he could almost feel the moment Nico’s heart broke. _“You’re not even real.”_

 _“I’m real,”_ Nico retorted. _“I’ve never once lied to you about my feelings. Everything else – I had to keep it a secret. I wanted to protect you. I never meant-“_

 _"Stop. It's all a lie,"_ Dante snarled savagely, cutting him off. _"You've been lying to me since day one. I only know the part of you you want me to know!"_

 

 _"I'm trying to protect you!"_ Nico scoffed. _"If they know about you, there's a greater chance for you to be hurt!"_

_"Am I not hurting now? Is this safe, being in a relationship built on lies?"_

_"It's not a lie,"_ Nico protested, his voice breaking. _"You know me better than any other person on this earth. I've never let anyone get as close as you are."_

_"And yet,"_ Dante shouted, his voice ringing off the walls of the room, _"everything we are is false. It's built on your lies – your invention of the last twenty years. How can I trust that I'm as close as you want me to believe? I don't even know who you are!"_

 

 _"My feelings aren't a lie,"_ Nico bellowed, and Dante was suddenly awash in rage and distress that he knew instinctively were Nico’s. He felt abruptly helpless and broken, a cavernous maw of darkness gnawing at him from the inside. His boyfriend’s shadow grew taller against the back wall and, from Dante's point of view, everything was growing dark. The floor creaked and the light from the room’s fixtures were quickly snuffed out, and the shadows themselves seemed to gather at the foot of Nico's bed before climbing up and pooling around his legs. His hands were curled into claws in the blankets, and he almost glowed with a dark, unearthly light.

 

Dante really wasn’t sure how to describe what was happening – only that it was terrifying him right down to the core of his being, his blood turning cold as his heart leapt and accelerated in fear while he watched someone he cared about so deeply transform before his eyes.

 

 _"Oh my God,"_ Dante muttered, sheer, unadulterated terror welling in his stomach as he stumbled back and away from the other man. " _Nico, stop."_ His heart was beating like a rabbit's, fast and pounding in his chest. He wanted to run, to escape from the oppressive darkness that Nico – _his Nico_ – was bringing down upon them. Was this what it meant to be a – what was it he’d called himself? A demigod?

Then, just as quickly as it began, the shadows receded and left Nico slumped there, curled in on himself as he quaked uncontrollably. His face was pale, eyes wide, and he looked as if he had looked into the depths of hell and seen the Devil himself. Nico’s hands were trembling, and he pulled away, wrapping his arms around his knees protectively. One shaking hand was raised to cover his mouth, muffling his ragged breathing.

Dante found he couldn’t say anything. He didn’t know what _to_ say. He thought he knew Nico; they’d been friends before they began dating, and Nico had shared details – or what Dante has assumed were details, now he believed those were lies – of his life prior to their meeting, but this was a stranger standing before him. A _total_ stranger – and he was dangerous, terrifyingly so. He stared as Nico turned his gaze away, eyes and cheeks reddening with sadness and embarrassment. He took a deep, shaky breath, but Dante couldn’t relax. He was too afraid to relax, or even to speak.

Nico did find his voice, though. It was weak, and more broken than Dante had ever heard him sound. It made Dante want to break, but he held strong despite himself.

 _“I’m so sorry,”_ Nico whispered. _“I am so, so sorry. I screwed up, I know. I should have told you . . . but I thought I could protect you. I thought that if you didn’t know, nothing would come for you.”_

Dante cleared his throat, swallowing thickly. _“Demigod powers? Is that . . . what that was?”_ His heart was still hammering in his chest like a cornered animal facing off against a dangerous predator, but he forced a semblance of calm into his voice. His muscles felt frozen in place, unable to run for safety just yet.

Nico nodded jerkily.

_“I still don’t know what that means.”_

_“I’m a child of Hades. He’s the god of-“_

_“Death,”_ Dante cut in as he remembered, his voice shaking. He remembered Nico teaching him how to play that silly game, Mythomagic – vividly remembered attempting to familiarize himself with the Greek gods while he indulged his friend, and feeling a strange shudder run down his spine when he picked up the card for Hades, lord of the dead.  His boyfriend was the equivalent of the son of Lucifer, he thought to himself.

_“Yeah.”_

_“’Yeah?’ That’s all you can say?”_

_“I’m sorry. You have every right to be scared and angry.”_

_“What you did. Those are your . . . powers, I guess?”_

Nico shrugged, much to Dante’s confusion. _“I can do a lot more than be scary.”_

_“So tell me.”_

_“I have power over the shadows. I can talk to and summon ghosts . . . and skeletons to fight for me if I need to. Haven’t done that in a while, but I can. And I have some control over the Earth. Rocks and things.”_

_“You summon skeletons, Nico? Like, dead bodies that have been buried for years and years, and you use them to fight for you? That . . . never seemed, I don’t know, wrong to you?”_

_“Are you really going to turn this into a discussion of the ethics of using my powers?”_

_“You’re abusing the dead!”_

_“They’re dead!”_ Nico snapped, emphasizing the last word. _“I’m sorry I lied to you  - I really am, but that is not a discussion I can have with you. I saw the monster and knew we had to get out. I knew we had to get somewhere actually safe and I-“_

 _“Kidnapped me,”_ Dante supplied, shrugging and smiling bitterly. .

 _“I didn’t kidnap you!”_ Nico sputtered. _“I saved you from getting ripped apart!”_

_“And now I’m stuck here. Reyna said I couldn’t leave, that it was too dangerous.”_

_“It is-“_

_“Then what about my family?” Dante shouted hysterically. “I want out. I want to go home.”_

0o0

Nico took a deep, shaky breath. He wanted out; Dante wanted this – whatever they had, everything they’d experienced together – to end. But he couldn’t make another jump like that – not for a while, and the monsters would likely still be hunting around their apartment building, sniffing around and waiting for them to return. He couldn’t send Dante back to his death. _“I can’t.”_

Dante started to look panicked at that, and Nico immediately cursed himself. Dante couldn’t stand the idea of feeling trapped. _“Wait, Dante-“_

 _“We talked about this. You agreed, we agreed,”_ Dante said in a low voice, the volume barely masking his growing anxiety. _“You promised you’d never keep me somewhere I didn’t want to be.”_

 _“I’m not trying to be a complete asshole, I’m trying to protect you,”_ Nico tried to reason with him, but Dante was staring at him with a mistrustful look now.

 _“I need some air,”_ Dante said, clearing his throat. _“I hope you feel better,”_ he said quietly before stalking out of the infirmary. That was at least one thing he had some semblance of control over.

Once Dante left, Nico allowed every part of his body to give into the exhaustion and distress that conversation brought forth. That could have gone better – a lot better. Far too belatedly, Nico wished he could have mustered up the courage to say something, to share his secret with Dante. Secrets seemed to have a wicked way of tearing him up from the inside when he held on to them for too long, Nico thought bitterly. He’d held on to his feelings for Percy for far too long, until it soured and embittered his heart to the point of making unthinking decisions. When he’d finally moved on and allowed someone else into his life, he’d been so afraid of scaring Dante away that he could never bring himself to say anything. Now that decision was causing him even more pain.

If he hadn’t been such a coward, he would have said something to Dante when he first started realizing that he trusted the other man. He should have been able to trust this man with the knowledge of who he really was . . . but Nico had been terrified of what would happen after the fact. Would he think Nico was insane, and leave him friendless and alone once more? At the time, Nico had been worried that he couldn’t handle that sort of reaction and rejection. It would have broken his fragile, shakily reconstructed sense of worth.

0o0

Reyna found them an apartment in New Rome where Dante could stay while Nico and Percy went on their quest; Nico had hoped that they might be able to talk about some things before they left, but that ship had clearly sailed. Dante never returned after announcing that he needed some air, so when he forced his way out – against Will Solace’s advice – Nico sought out Reyna to fill in some of the gaps. After giving him a hug and catching up briefly, Reyna sent him in the right direction towards the apartment building. They were all done in a similar style to the apartment buildings in Rome, though similar styles existed throughout the country, so Nico almost fooled himself into thinking that they were back home in Tessera rather than in California. He braced himself before entering, finding Dante at the table eating a sandwich. His hope that they might be able to talk things out proved entirely too optimistic however, when Dante took one look at Nico and practically barricaded himself in the bedroom. Having decided that he was tired of fighting with him and didn’t want to incur more of his wrath, Nico curled up on the couch, wide awake and simmering with a complex storm of emotions that oscillated between devastation, anger, sadness, and shame.

All he could think was that he’d brought this on himself; that he should have told Dante about everything when he had the chance. Then at least this might have been on his own terms rather than forced upon him.

 


	6. Part 2 Chapter 4.5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Dante woke up the next morning, he was momentarily disoriented; the room was unfamiliar, and the blankets covering him were not his own. Furthermore, Nico wasn’t sprawled out on his stomach beside him.

Chapter 4

Part 2

When Dante woke up the next morning, he was momentarily disoriented; the room was unfamiliar, and the blankets covering him were not his own. Furthermore, Nico wasn’t sprawled out on his stomach beside him.

After a few minutes it came back to him all in a rush: the attacks, the rush to escape and the arrival at Camp Jupiter, Nico’s completely unbelievable story that preceded a dark display of abilities he’d never known about. He didn’t know what to do anymore, or how to react; it seemed impossible to reconcile the man he’d come to know and care for with the stranger who now stood in his place. When Nico had finally arrived at the apartment, Dante had locked him out of the bedroom.

Now that he thought about it, Nico had probably used the same power to get from Venice to some other remote area as he did transporting them to California from Venice. That would explain why they hadn’t found him: obviously Nico wanted to make sure he wouldn’t be found, and what better way to do that than to disappear entirely?

With all those bitter, angry thoughts swirling in his head, Dante was surprised to find Nico sitting curled up on the couch, his arms wrapped around his shins as he stared off into space. His eyes were red as if he’d been crying, and there were dark bruises under his eyes, indicating that he hadn’t slept.

 _“You didn’t get any sleep?”_ Dante asked, though his deeply rooted concern for Nico’s well-being didn’t quite make it into his tone.

Nico shook his head slowly, still staring off into space. _“It’s ok. I’m used to it.”_

Dante felt his heart break a little. No matter how angry he was that Nico had lied to him, no matter how scared he was of this stranger, he’d been around Nico long enough to know when the other man was desperately trying to hold it together. He was failing miserably. _“I couldn’t sleep much either,”_ he muttered, finally causing Nico to meet his gaze at least halfway. _“It’s too much. I don’t know how to process all this.”_

_“Do you really want to go home?”_

It was a trick question, Dante recognized; the wrong answer probably would send him home, but then he might never see Nico again. _“Yes. But that would probably mean that you’d never come back to me. I don’t . . . I don’t know if I want that.”_

Nico swallowed thickly, turning his gaze down once more. _“I wanted to protect you from this,”_ Nico whispered miserably. _“I chose to leave this behind for a reason.”_

 _“For all the good that did,”_ Dante said stubbornly. _“We’re still here.”_

_“You don’t have to be.”_

_“Shut up,”_ Dante snarled, his fingers twitching. Nico’s eyes flitted down to them before returning to meet his glare. The familiar itch for a cigarette, triggered by his stress and anxiety, flared up just under the surface of his skin.

 _“Why?”_ Nico wondered, an expression of complete confusion shifting his features. _“You clearly hate that I’ve lied to you. If you’re just going to push me away, why wouldn’t you leave without me?”_

_“Because I know you’d disappear if I went back now. I’d never see you again.”_

_“Look, Dante, please – you have to trust me on this--“_

_“No I don’t,”_ Dante scoffed.

Nico stared, dumbstruck by the backhanded comment. Dante may as well have slapped him or punched him in the gut – it would have garnered the same reaction.

 _“I don’t have to trust you at all. You lied to me, Nico – about pretty much everything. I know only what you wanted me to know, so I really don’t know you very well at all. And that,”_ Dante said, his voice cracking under pressure, _“that’s really shitty. That really sucks, because I care about you – more than I can stand to think about right now. I know you’re hurting right now and I want to do something, to comfort you, despite the lies. Part of me doesn’t care.”_

 _“Part?”_ Nico asked dubiously.

_“The other part wants to shake you and ask what the hell you were thinking lying to me about all of this. I know what you’ve been saying you were trying to do, but that’s not good enough. It’s too much.”_

Nico was silent as began to realize what Dante was talking about. _“You think I’m like him, don’t you?”_ he asked.

Dante turned away from him, embarrassed and ashamed that his mind was even drawing the slightest connection to his first boyfriend. _“What else am I supposed to think?”_

 _“I would never do that to you,”_ Nico hissed stubbornly.

Dante just shook his head, refusing to look at him. _“Did you ever think about telling me?”_

 _“Yes, all the time,”_ Nico said earnestly. _“I hated myself, every time I lied to you. I didn’t want to, but I thought that if I could only-“_ Nico cut himself off. _“I wanted to protect you, and I thought that was the best way. That was stupid, I know that now.”_ He paused, clearing his throat. “ _Do you think we can come back from this?”_

 _“I’ll be honest with you here. I don’t know. I don’t know what’s going to happen with us. We were doing so well, but . . .”_ Dante trailed off, disgusted with how things were going. He fell back into the armchair, putting his head in his hands.

 _“I was never happier than when I was with you,”_ Nico said quietly, looking at him with a solemn expression on his face. _“I’m the child of Death, we don’t make many lasting relationships. I never thought I’d meet anyone who could see me for who I was, rather than . . . that.  You’re wonderful. You’re beautiful, intelligent, loving, and supportive – you made me family, and told me I deserved just as much happiness and love as anyone else. You were – we were the best thing that’s happened to me. I’m so sorry I lied to you. It was never my intention to cause you this pain. I hoped I could protect you.”_

 _“But you can’t,”_ Dante whispered, fighting the break in his voice.

Nico bowed and shook his head frantically. _“I can’t, and that scares me more than I can possibly convey. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for this – for lying, for keeping this from you. I never wanted to hurt you.”_

Dante’s mouth twisted as he nodded, marginally accepting Nico’s apology. _“Is there anything . . . about you that is drastically different from what you’ve told me before?”_ If nothing else, he supposed, he could just ask, since Nico had offered answers before. He tried to remain impassive as Nico’s head shot up, the faintest expression of hope on his face, before the corner of his mouth turned up just slightly.

_“My birthday.”_

_“Why did you lie about your birthday?”_ Dante asked, exasperated now. Of all the things to lie about, why his birthday.

_“I didn’t totally . . . I was born on January twenty-eighth – in 1933.”_

Dante stared.

And stared.

What was he supposed to make of that?

 _“You look pretty good for a man old enough to be my grandpa,”_ he blurted, numb and on the verge of laughing hysterically at the absurdity of it all.

Nico at least snorted a laugh, but it was clearly not a happy memory. _“When you came to my apartment that first time, and we talked about that poster . . . Maria di Angelo was my mother, not my grandmother.”_

 _“Does . . . being the son of Hades,”_ he started hesitantly, _“mean you live longer, or something?”_

Nico shook his head. _“That is actually a long story. I can tell it if you want, but . . . think of it like someone just hit the pause button on me for a few decades. I age normally now.”_

Dante gave one quick nod, accepting that information. _“If you’re the son of Hades, who is Percy?”_

_“The son of Poseidon – the sea god.”_

_“Reyna?”_

_“Bellona, a Roman goddess of war.”_

_“Huh_ ,” Dante mumbled, figuring that that made some sort of sense in a way – as much as all the talk of demigods and ghosts and monsters could.

Meanwhile, Nico had a hint of a smirk on his face. _“It makes sense, doesn’t it?”_

Dante tried for a noncommittal sound, but ended up nodding halfway through. _“She said you two were friends, but you’ve never mentioned her.”_

_“I haven’t mentioned any of these people, you know. Aside from Percy, but . . . you know the reasoning there. Reyna was absolutely a really good friend. She knows me, and . . . is really protective. We opted to go on a quest together, to help Percy and our other friends, and ended up bonding really well while we were gone. We write to each other here and there.”_

He’d been dealing with it well up until that point, but once it all sank in Dante was left feeling lost and very unsure of how he should feel. _“I feel like I know you less every time we talk now,”_ he whispered sadly.

Across the couch Nico made a choked-off sound, his face paling quickly.

Dante took a deep breath, and turned what he hoped was a hard stare towards Nico. _“I really need you to tell me the whole story,”_ Dante said quietly. _I deserve that much, don’t I?”_

Nico looked pale, like he was going to vomit. But he still swallowed thickly, his gaze flickering off to the side, and he began to talk.

It sounded like a story out of a children’s book, or a fantasy. The idea of children born of mythical pagan gods and humans seemed outright blasphemous to Dante. The translations didn’t always work with his descriptions. Nico kept correcting himself, because sometimes he would inadvertently describe himself as a ‘son of God’ but he didn’t want Dante to think he was comparing himself to Jesus or anything. Dante just let him tell his story without interruptions or questions.

He went on, speaking more over the course of nearly thirty minutes than Dante was sure he’d ever heard Nico going on for. Nico wasn’t much of a talker, though once you found a common subject he could carry on a conversation for hours – but that was with prompting and someone to talk to. Hearing him telling his own story was another matter entirely. Nico started to get hoarse by the end, and Dante found himself wordlessly bringing him a glass of water to drink. Angry though he might be, Dante wasn’t heartless.

He lost himself in Nico’s world: the vague memories of his godly father and his mother Maria, the fond ones of his sister Bianca; the tales of his misadventures and misunderstandings with Percy and Annabeth, his feelings of isolation and mistrust. They’d touched on some of these feelings and memories here and there back when they were first getting to know each other and later when they started dating more seriously, but now Dante realized that everything Nico had shared had been just the tip of the iceberg for him. It was hard to simply accept all this knowledge when it also revealed some of the most telling lies Nico used.

Still Dante nodded, allowing Nico to tell his story – the whole story – in his own words, without interruption or judgment. It was what he had asked for, after all.

Then he reached the portion of his story that took place in the last few years. He’d spent several years helping his father in the Underworld before making his way to Venice to try and live his own life, beyond the dangerous world of demigods and monsters. He talked about finishing his education and looking into universities, before Nico cleared his throat and trailed off. _“You know the rest,”_ he said quietly. _“You were there for it.”_

Dante wanted to snark at him that ‘being there’ didn’t mean that he completely understood what was happening to him. Still, Nico had answered all of his unspoken questions in his story: why he disliked people touching him, the inspiration behind his nightmares and panic attacks, where he’d gone the night he disappeared. He tried not to bitterly mutter ‘I knew it’ at the last admission.

 _“Do you have any questions?”_ Nico gently prompted, wringing his hands and looking rather worried.

 _“Did you ever really want to tell me all of this?”_ Dante asked almost immediately. _“That was pretty huge to keep secret.”_

 _“I thought about it a lot,”_ he admitted, picking at the dry skin around his nails. _“I wanted to, I did. I worried about it, worried myself sick sometimes, but I couldn’t make myself speak. I was afraid of losing you._

 _I still am,”_ Nico said a moment later, his voice breaking.

Dante nodded absently. It was a lot to process. _“Thank you for telling me.”_

_“We’re still not ok, are we?”_

Dante shook his head. _“I’m not really sure yet.”_

0o0

In the days that followed his awakening, Nico tried to push all of the dark thoughts surrounding the abysmal status of his relationship with Dante out of his head. He’d apologized profusely and had given Dante all of the information he could possibly want (and probably more than he did in the process), and was giving his boyfriend the space he desired at the moment. While he spent a lot more time out and about training and getting things prepared for his quest with Percy, Nico didn’t end up seeing much of Dante, who was staying behind closed doors as often as possible, it seemed.

He felt Dante’s absence acutely, like a punch to the solar plexus and then immediately after, his chest. Dante had assumed such an integral role in Nico’s life, had become so omnipresent that Nico never once questioned his presence; now that Dante was actively choosing to remove himself from his life Nico felt the loss physically.

Not for the first time since their arrival, Nico second-guessed his decision to help Percy. After all the turmoil that had developed between himself and Dante, he couldn’t help but wonder if the decision to leave Dante behind right now was essentially putting the nails in the coffin of their relationship. Running away with Percy, even if it was to help him, wasn’t going to solve their problems – in fact, it was probably going to end up driving an uncompromising wedge between him and his boyfriend. Nico felt the nausea escalate as his thought process continued on that path.

He’d always been the first to jump when Percy needed help. His ridiculous crush had made a request from Percy undeniable, and he would immediately jump right in without fully thinking about the consequences or dangers – like going looking for the Doors of Death.

Stupid, really. What if this was more of the same? Was he really that much of a masochist for Percy?

Nico huffed and shut down that train of thought. That kind of negativity never got him anywhere except deeper into the pits of his own personal Tartarus. He had to focus on the other aspects of this rather than dwell obsessively on the what-ifs and his own fears. He would find a way to repair his relationship with Dante and maybe start to rebuild their trust in each other – and he would help Percy out this one last time. Nico just hoped that in the end, he wouldn’t have to choose between one or the other.

When he started thinking about knocking himself out to quiet the warring parts of his brain, Nico turned to focus on the game plan. He talked with Hazel, Rachel, and Percy, piecing together the most complete record of information about Annabeth’s disappearance and the clues that had been laid out before them. All of that information now resided in a small black notebook, crammed with Nico’s small, tidy script for him to look over when things inevitably got turned around later on. Talking with Hazel even reminded Nico of a few dreams he’d had a month or so before Percy’s arrival involving a blurry, shadowed figure that always seemed to be planning or talking to himself. Despite the timing of the dream, Nico wasn’t completely convinced that the two were related at all. While there were no coincidences in the world of demigods who lived for quests filled with symbolism, Nico just didn’t know how to attribute a very unusual dream to Annabeth’s kidnapping.

After some discussions with Percy, Nico grudgingly agreed that they would have to start in the Underworld. He really had no desire to return, not after being away from that place for so long, despite parting with Hades and Persephone on relatively good terms. But if there were clues to Annabeth’s disappearance there, then Nico would go there first to check it out.

Another issue had more to do with Nico’s own powers than it did his preferences. Ideally, Nico would have liked to scour the scene of the crime for clues, but that seemed a very unwise option between the media’s suspicion of Percy and the sheer number of miles between Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter. As usual, they would have to take most of this quest as it came.

0o0

They couldn’t leave immediately, as much as Percy had wanted. He needed to set Hazel up to take care of Galen since she’d offered, but more than anything he wanted to make sure that Nico was ready for a quest – even a short one.

As it turned out, Nico had been keeping up with at least some of his training. His powers were pretty rusty – skeletons only grudgingly crawled from the ground after a lot of sweat and frustrated tears, and it took a lot more energy to move earth and stone than it had when he was younger. However, after a day or two of practice it seemed to pick up again, and it was clear that Nico had been working on some of training regiment while he’d been away. Physically Nico was in top form, and his timing and reflexes were pretty much on point. They sparred for a few hours the second day, feeling one another out and getting a sense for each other’s strengths and weaknesses once again. Percy had never actually sparred against Nico when he was a teenager, so it was an eye-opening experience to actually have his ass handed to him by the younger man. It was only later that Nico revealed he had been participating in fencing lessons here and there when he could.

Over the course of those few days, Percy didn’t see much of Dante. He tried to mention the other man to Nico, but Nico’s expression clouded over with worry and doubt when his boyfriend was mentioned, so he began to avoid the subject for Nico’s sake. Once in a while, Percy caught a glimpse of the Italian man watching their training sessions from afar, a distant look in his eyes as he watched them spar. He never tried to approach them, though; Dante would glare at Nico – but more in a way that said he was confused and bewildered by this side of his boyfriend – before he retreated back to the apartment Reyna set up for him.

Technically, Nico also lived in that apartment – but Percy knew that he hadn’t been sleeping there the last few nights. It wasn’t hard to figure out that they had fought, and in trying to give Dante the space he needed Nico slept up on the roof of that complex.

Percy didn’t try to pry; he knew that would only result in stony glares and snarled responses, and it would ruin their tentative truce as it stood. They hadn’t reached a point where Nico was entirely comfortable with Percy just yet, and while Percy was impatient to mend their burned bridges he knew better than to force anything on Nico di Angelo.

Hazel had reminded him of why the children of Hades and Pluto could still strike terror into his heart the day he, Nico, and Dante had arrived by surprise at Camp Jupiter. After she’d come in to make sure Nico was alright and Dante was coping to a degree, she’d dragged Percy out of the infirmary to rail at him. Percy was sure she would have been shouting if he hadn’t had Galen tucked into his arms, but she made her point very, very clear.

“I knew that this would happen if I sent you there!” Hazel had hissed, her golden eyes glinting with unadulterated rage. “I warned you, Percy. I warned you not to hurt him or fuck up all the good things he’d been working on building for himself.”

“It’s not my fault a bunch of monsters showed up!”

“Actually, it is,” she’d said caustically. “One child of the Big Three can be concealed, but two? I should have known the Mist wouldn’t be able to conceal that kind of power. You drew those monsters to them.”

“I told you, Rachel said I needed to find him. There was no other way.”

Hazel turned away, rubbing her face with her hands and groaning loudly. “This isn’t what I wanted. You were just supposed to go get him and peacefully – _peacefully!_ – extract him for a short period without ruining his goddamn life! This is a disaster!”

“I won’t argue that,” Percy huffed, rubbing Galen’s back when he started to fuss. “I really did try to keep the shit from hitting the fan.”

After a long, tense moment, Hazel sighed heavily. “I didn’t anticipate how quickly they would track you down. And now . . . everything I was trying to help him protect has been destroyed.”

“I don’t think things are destroyed,” Percy said pensively after a moment. “Maybe they just need some time to figure things out. It is a lot for someone like Dante to take in.”

“For once, I hope you’re right.”

Percy’s mind caught up with Hazel’s words as she turned from him and started to walk away. “Wait, ‘for once?’” called after her, just slightly offended.

0o0

Nico wasn’t an idiot – at least, he was pretty sure he wasn’t.

He knew he fucked up, and that was putting it lightly. It was Percy all over again; he kept secrets, important ones, with the best intentions and once again it backfired. Now he was devastated that Dante might be turning away from him too. They’d talked . . . well, Nico had tried to talk to Dante, while Dante seemed to only grudgingly allow him into his space. Every time they interacted, he felt a greater chill between them developing. Over the course of a few days he became numb, like he was starting to realize that this might be the beginning of goodbye. That thought made him feel like his chest was being cracked open, so he tried not to dwell too much, instead focusing entirely on preparing for the mission.

Their first stop would be to the Underworld, to follow up on the leads Rachel had given them. Percy was rather reticent to return to the Underworld given his last encounter with Hades, and Nico wasn’t exactly excited to go back there either. It had been his home for a few years, sure, but the place was so goddamn depressing that it pulled his mood down even further. That and he was pretty sure that making the return trip whilst dragging Percy Jackson along was going to put his father in a foul mood. That was surely going to be a reunion worthy of bad reality television.

When the morning of their departure finally arrived, Nico stood outside the closed door of Dante’s bedroom – it was Dante’s alone, since Nico hadn’t slept in the bed or even the room since they’d arrived – with his hand raised, fist poised to knock and see if his boyfriend was awake. He didn’t want to leave on bad terms; he loathed the idea that he was abandoning a sinking ship and leaving his first mate to sink or swim. Nico wanted so badly to find the words to show how sorry he was and how scared he was for their future. He had no idea what the future had in store for them as a couple, and he was terribly worried that Dante would ultimately just tell him off, leaving him alone and without the one person he desperately wanted in his life.

Still, Nico knew that Dante felt angry and betrayed by his actions. He had every right to be, Nico scolded himself for the thousandth time. If Dante decided he didn’t want to be with him anymore, Nico wouldn’t be able to protest. He had brought this upon himself.

He hedged, his fist bare centimeters from connecting with the door several times, until they finally made contact. The silence that followed was deafening.

 _“We’re going to be leaving soon,”_ he said loud enough for Dante to hear. _“I just wanted to see you before I go.”_

 _“I’ll meet you down in the square,”_ came the response a moment later.

Nico couldn’t help the distinct pang of disappointment. While he recognized that this was justified behavior for Dante, it still hurt to get that treatment from someone he cared for deeply. However, at least Dante was choosing to come see him off. That had to be some sort of good sign, right?

Percy was already in the Forum, talking with a contingent of demigods – Hazel and Reyna included – who had come to see them off. He was still holding on to Galen tightly, reluctant to let him go, until he caught a glimpse of Nico walking towards them and finally relinquished his child to Hazel.

As he pulled his backpack over his shoulders, Nico suddenly realized that he’d never actually been on an official quest before. The closest thing had been his incredibly stupid, ill-planned misadventure with the Athena Parthenos, but he’d never taken part in a true, prophecy-driven quest. Still, he felt more prepared for this venture than he had previous ones. He had pomegranate seeds for emergencies, and a generous supply of nectar and ambrosia, as well as money, food, and camping supplies that were magically enhanced, not unlike the camping equipment he and Reyna had used on their quest years before.

Nico talked quietly with Reyna and Hazel, asking them to keep an eye on Dante and, though it caused a sharp pain in his chest to say, to take him back to Italy if he requested. As far as he was concerned, Nico owed him at least that much.

“You should talk to him before you go,” Reyna said sagely, looking Nico directly in the eye in the same way that always disarmed him. “Don’t leave it like this.”

“I tried. He said he’d be down soon.”

“And so he is. Go talk, the quest can wait a few minutes.”

Nico turned and went to Dante, who was leaning against a pillar with his arms crossed over his chest. _“I’ll be back soon,”_ he said, hoping he sounded confident.

Dante nodded solemnly. _“I’ll wait up, I guess.”_

_“If you . . . if you change your mind, just tell Reyna. She’ll make sure you get home safely. I’ll understand.”_

_“You’re an idiot,”_ Dante hissed at him.

_“I just want you to know that you have a way out if you want it.”_

_“Do you want me gone that badly?”_

_“No. I want you to be the first person I see when I come back. I want you here, safe. I want you to be happy, and I know I’m doing a crap job of helping with that right now. I’m sorry, I have to go. Please don’t hate me.”_ Then Nico pulled Dante into a fierce, passionate, but one-sided kiss. Dante only returned the kiss minimally. Realizing this Nico pulled away abruptly, breaking the kiss off quickly and looking away. The rejection was as clear as a slap to the face.

 _“I see,”_ Nico said, stepping back and away from Dante. His boyfriend, for some reason, looked stricken and saddened by his words. Nico didn’t give him time to say anything more on his behalf though, turning on his heels and grabbing Percy – who was snuggling and kissing baby Galen goodbye – by the arm before dragging him unceremoniously away. He knew his face was set in a scowl, but couldn’t force it into an expression of detachment. He had at one point been able to school himself to hide his private feelings, but being around someone who made him feel safer and more vulnerable had stripped away that skill over the years. Despite the lies he’d had to tell, Nico had never forced himself to conceal his feelings while they were together. That realization made him even angrier.

Without further ado, Nico made the quick shadow-travel jump to Los Angeles with Percy in tow, right back into the alley he’d made his reentry into the mortal world years before.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) My poor Dante. Forgive his mixed signals, he really has no idea how to deal with this crap, and he can't make up his mind for how to interact with Nico. Give them some time.
> 
> 2) There will be a small hiatus now that this chapter is posted. My beta is having work done on her computer and I will be crazy busy next week, but I am hopeful we will be back to posting March 4th. Thank you all in advance for your patience <3


	7. Part 2 Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Percy was starting to feel his anxiety go through the roof. He was already near frantic as the weeks passed with no word of Annabeth, and the fact that he was going back to the Underworld under such duress was not helping his anxieties. Even the prospect of Nico helping him wasn’t doing much, mostly because his companion didn’t appear to be that happy about returning to his former home in the slightest.

He wondered whether Nico’s reticence had more to do with his strained relationship with Hades or his troubled departing conversation with Dante. He’d watched their interactions surreptitiously from afar, and had winced inwardly at Dante’s stony expression as he pushed Nico away. Percy felt the shame at having helped to bring them to that point. It wasn’t going to be counted amongst his finest moments.

The trip through the record store that served as the entrance to the Underworld had been tense and quiet. Percy could tell Nico was distracted, and could practically feel the frustration and sadness coming off him in waves, so he tried not to pester Nico too much; he was totally sure that Nico blamed him for everything that was happening in his personal life, and Percy definitely didn’t want to rankle him more than was necessary. The last thing they both needed was to have more worries added to their already full plates – so Percy tried to be mindful of his actions and not his own developing anxieties come to light. The last time he’d been in the Underworld he’d been looking for Nico, just about six years ago now, not long after Nico took his leave of absence from the mortal realm, and Hades had practically laughed Percy right out of the Underworld with his tail tucked between his legs.

Hades, however, proved entirely unhelpful. It wasn’t the worst interaction he’d had with the Lord of the Underworld, but it certainly would have been better if he had any sort of information that would prove helpful. Of course, it might have started out differently if Hades hadn’t immediately brought up his last visit to the Underworld with a snide, “I see you’re looking more haggard than the last time I saw you, Mr. Jackson.” The tone of his voice made him flinch, but Percy met his gaze evenly.

Nico gave him a sharp look, raising an eyebrow. “What’s he talking about?” he muttered softly.

Hades, however, seemed to hear him loud and clear. “Oh, he was here six years ago, not long after you settled back in,” the lord of the Underworld responded matter-of-factly.

As Nico opened his mouth to say something, Percy felt himself flail a little. “I was worried,” he hissed defensively. “I wanted to check and make sure you were ok.”

Nico turned his stony gaze towards his father. “You didn’t tell me this.”

“You insisted you didn’t want any contact with any mortals or demigods aside from your sister,” Persephone chimed in helpfully.

Suddenly Percy had the distinct realization of just how much Nico hated them. It was like a kick to the sternum.

While Nico seemed too stunned to figure out what to say, Percy decided that he’d had enough of Hades’ games and wanted to get right to the point so he could get out of there as soon as possible. “Is there any information you could give us about Annabeth’s disappearance?” he asked bluntly.

Hades eyed him shrewdly, but it was Nico who answered instead of his father.

“She’s not here,” Nico said confidently. “I would have felt her die if she had.”

Percy’s face scrunched up in confusion. “Then why did Rachel say that something was here?” Then he saw Hades and Persephone speaking in very hushed tones out of his peripheral vision. “Please, if you have any information-“

“I am not obligated to share anything with you,” Hades interrupted him, sounding bored.

Percy wanted to throttle the god. He was already at the end of his rope, and now he was stuck bartering for information with a god who hated him vehemently. This was clearly not going to go very well.

“Father,” Nico pleaded quietly, surprising Percy. “Is there anything you know of that might help us? We need to find her before something happens – and I know you really don’t want something to happen to her, because if Annabeth is down here in the Underworld you’ll have to deal with Percy a lot more for visitation.”

He said it all so smoothly that Percy did a double-take. He couldn’t tell if Nico was being completely serious or had actually displayed a huge amount of sarcasm.

“Jackson isn’t accustomed to your particular kind of sarcasm yet, clearly,” Hades commented drily.

“He’s only been around me for a few days,” Nico sighed. “I’m sure he’ll get used to it. That’s beside the point, though,” he finished, pointedly raising an eyebrow at his father.

“We had a visitor several months ago,” Hades admitted after a few moments. “A demigod we’d never encountered before. I think he hoped to gain my assistance in a plot of his, though I declined.”

Nico’s eyebrows climbed up towards his hairline. “What kind of plot?”

“He never really explained. He spoke a lot about Mr. Jackson here, with quite a lot of vitrol. I sympathized with him at least on that respect. But he did not present any rewards that might have been favorable for me – at least, nothing I was willing to risk anything for. So I turned him away.”

“Did he happen to mention his name?” Percy asked, annoyed by Hades’ backhanded comments. “What this plan might entail? Anything?”

“Only that if I changed my mind I could find him at Mount Othrys,” Hades rolled his eyes. “Why he thought I would ever go to that forsaken place, I don’t understand.”

Nico seemed puzzled by that as well, if his expression was anything to go by. “That mountain has been the seat of power for titans in the past. The last time I was there it acted like a wellspring for the Mist.”

“A perfect place for a trickster and a traitor to hide then,” Hades offered with an arched brow.

Percy looked between Nico and Hades, wondering what they were really talking about. Was this going to help him find Annabeth faster?

0o0

Nico was confident this information was going to help, despite how little his father had given them. At least they had a destination of sorts, because they needed to have at least that information to go on. If nothing else, they needed a destination.

Percy, however, was quieter than usual. Nico remembered Percy as a boisterous, sarcastic figure, at first very heroic to his eyes until he became disillusioned with him after Tartarus. He waited for him to say something, to make fun of Hades or his relationship with his father, or to pester him about what other information Hades should have been able to give them. When he didn’t, Nico decided that maybe he should prod a little. Percy never had a problem with prodding him.

“What’s on your mind?” Nico asked him a little while later, when they were settling into a motel overseen by a Roman demigod. Said demigod, who introduced himself simply as ‘Duke,’ assured their safety completely.

“Just thinking about today, that’s all,” Percy tried to brush it off.

“Hades?” Nico hazarded a guess. Percy shrugged in response.

“He’s never exactly been the most helpful of gods,” Nico sighed. “But I also don’t think we left empty-handed.”

“He didn’t tell us anything we didn’t already know,” Percy protested. “You’re his son, you’d think he might want to help you out a little.”

Nico barely repressed a snort. “I think you’re overestimating the father-son bond we have. The majority of demigod kids aren’t Blessed like you are, Percy. I was just lucky enough to earn my father’s respect after so long.”

Percy wanted to retort, but stopped himself from saying something stupid. “Why do you think he didn’t respect you?”

Nico’s expression darkened. “I really don’t want to talk about this.”

Percy grumbled to himself, annoyed that Nico was shutting him down already. “Did you really not know that we tried to find you?”

“You heard the god,” the younger man responded wryly. “I asked to never be contacted.”

“You stayed in touch with Hazel, Reyna, and Jason.”

“Hazel’s different. And so are Reyna and Jason.”

“Wow,” Percy murmured, stunned by Nico’s honesty. “I guess I didn’t realize how much you hated us,” he admitted quietly.

Nico huffed loudly. “I didn’t . . . I didn’t hate everyone. I just couldn’t be around you guys anymore.”

Percy pursed his lips. “You mean me, though – right?”

Nico stiffened and cast a sharp look in Percy’s direction. “I never said that.”

“You didn’t really have to,” Percy responded before he could stop himself. “I know I screwed up. A lot.”

“I’m not going to try and placate you by telling you you didn’t or whatever. But I also don’t need to address it. I’ve moved on,” Nico said confidently.

“I still feel like I need to apologize. I know I was really shitty, especially with the whole Annabeth thing-“

“Percy!” Nico rounded on him, pushing Percy up against the wall and pinning him with a glare. “It’s been six years. It’s time to drop it.”

“I’m trying to drop it! I just want to thank you for helping me. I know it was a lot to ask of you.”

Nico couldn’t help but laugh at that. “If only you knew how stupid that sentence is. We’re not going to talk about this. I’m here, and I’m going to help you.”

At that point, Percy decided to drop the subject before it landed him in bigger trouble with his estranged friend. They still had a long while to go, and it didn’t bode well for them to start fighting this early on.

They left the relative sanctuary of Duke’s motel and began to more or less hike the next day. Percy wasn’t exactly used to hiking – it took too long, but they’d been warned against using pegasi and other modes of transportation. Apparently the mountain never let anything get near it. The whole process of camping with Nico was a little surreal though, because suddenly Percy was sharing a confined space with the younger demigod when neither of them were used to each other just yet.

Percy lay awake that night having taken the first watch, looking up at the stars barely visible through the trees. He was exhausted, but his mind was still entirely active. It wouldn’t leave the thoughts of Nico to rest.  He spared a glance at the younger man asleep not more than a few feet away.

“Hey Nico?” he asked softly, loud enough for him to hear but not so loud that it would wake him if he was sleeping.

Nico grunted in response. “What.”

“Can I ask you something?”

The response was an annoyed groan.

“Why did you really leave?” he asked, not daring to look over at the other man even after he heard the distinct rustling of blankets and an indignant noise from Nico. “You were always welcome at the camps, but you even left Camp Jupiter behind. Why?”

“None of your business,” Nico grumbled.

“You made it my business when you left that figurine in my cabin.” Percy had almost forgotten about that. Before he figured out that Nico had left them for good, the appearance of the small Poseidon figurine had confused him.

“That was goodbye.”

“You could have stayed, you know.”

“I wasn’t happy there. I wasn’t welcome.”

“That’s bullshit, Nico.”

Nico’s only response was to roll over in his sleeping bag and press his pillow down over his ears to block out the sound of Percy’s voice. Percy huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, scowling at Nico’s back. This was going to be a long trip.

0o0

It had only been a few days since Nico and Percy had left, but Dante already felt like he’d been trapped at Camp Jupiter for a lifetime. He was a mortal, brand new to this whole world, and most of the others in the camp didn’t really know what to do with him. Clearly many saw him as an outsider, which Dante understood; he largely thought of himself as an outsider in this world of demigods and monsters and pagan deities – so the large majority left him alone simply for that reason. There were some who understood Italian fairly well, but fewer knew how to converse in the language. Even though Nico insisted that the camp was safe and secure, it didn’t do anything for Dante’s sense of complete isolation and abandonment in a strange world. He didn’t know what to do or what to think, which left him feeling completely stranded and confused by everything happening around him. Reyna explained that it was culture shock and that he would get over it eventually, but Dante wasn’t completely sure. On the one hand, he was still furious with Nico and confused by his feelings; on the other, he missed him terribly and just wanted him back so they could go back home.

But back to what? How would they figure this out, when clearly Nico had lied about a generous portion of his life and had purposefully kept Dante in the dark? Would they be able to go back and be who they were for each other again?

Thinking about Nico made him feel even worse, at that. He was ashamed of his cold treatment of Nico leading up to his departure, and even more so of how he’d pushed him away right as he was leaving. It replayed over and over again in his head at night on a loop, awful and heartbreaking and a constant reminder of how much of an idiot he was – and how stupid this situation was turning out to be. He still felt at least somewhat justified in his reactions, but it didn’t make him feel any better about himself.

The arrival of a new contingent of demigods forced Dante out of his self-imposed isolation, primarily because they showed up at the door to his apartment and insisted that he let them in. Once he opened the door, a man and woman greeted him warmly. He blinked at them, taking in their appearances: the man was tall and muscular, with short, windswept blond hair, bright blue eyes, and an easy smile – further accentuated by a scar on his lip. He looked a bit like Captain America, Dante thought, and figured he was pretty conventionally handsome in that way. The woman with him was stunningly beautiful in an understated way, with her captivating eyes that seemed to shift between flecks of blue, green, hazel, and brown, along with her bright smile. Her long chestnut hair hung in smooth waves over her shoulder, accessorized with small braids and feathers.

The woman was the only one who spoke after the initial introduction, her Italian a little stilted but easily understood. She introduced herself as Piper and her companion as Jason – her husband – as they made their way into the living room, then explained that they were here to make sure he was settling in well. They were friends of both Percy and Nico, she said, and had heard about the events that had transpired and brought them here.

Dante could only shrug in response as they sat, since he was clearly still unsure about where he stood in the grand scheme of things here. Their arrival was even more to process – _more_ of Nico’s friends, whom he had never mentioned?

Piper reached across the space between their seats and put her hand on his reassuringly; his hands were clasped tightly as he wrung them together, but at her touch he began to feel the stress and frustration leech out of him.

 _“It’s a lot to take in,”_ she said quietly. _“I know. It can be really intense. The first day I learned about all this stuff, I was also told that the relationship I’d been in was totally fabricated. Months of dating had never really happened – so at least you know Nico’s not fabricated like that.”_

Dante snorted; that actually didn’t make him feel much better, considering Nico had lied about a huge part of their relationship – so in some ways it probably was as fabricated as Piper’s imaginary one.

_“You two are really close, aren’t you?”_

_“We were,”_ Dante said, the words feeling hollow. _“Now I don’t really know.”_

Piper’s lips pursed. _“Would it make it easier if you could still talk to him while he’s out on this quest?”_

_“Is there a way to do that? Nico was pretty clear that he can’t use a phone.”_

_“There is,”_ Piper nodded. _“It’s harder for mortals to use it, and from what has been said, Nico probably didn’t think you’d want to know how to contact him. But if you want to talk with him, we can help you make that happen.”_

_“Can I think about it?”_

_“Of course,”_ Piper said, nodding and smiling genuinely. _“Would you tell us a little about yourself? Nico does his best to keep his outside acquaintances away from our world, so we’ve never met anyone in his life.”_

Dante frowned a little, shifting uncomfortably as he tried to decide just how much or little to tell these strangers. They seemed nice enough, but he was really starting to feel overwhelmed by the number of Nico’s friends and acquaintances in this secretive, hidden world of his. He started small, telling them bits and pieces about him and his family, and after a little while he could feel Piper steering the conversation towards his relationship with Nico. Normally he wouldn’t have minded answering a few innocent questions, but Nico had always liked keeping their relationship private – plus he felt uncomfortable talking about a relationship he wasn’t sure even existed now.

When he hedged and set his expression in a twisted frown as he sought the right words, Piper waved the question away. _“Forget I asked. I know things are strange right now. What’s growing up in Venice like?”_ she asked, changing the subject on a dime.

Still feeling awkward and uncomfortable, Dante tried to describe growing up in the shadow of one of the most famous cities in the world, but it was difficult to describe growing up straddling the line between islander and visitor. His parents worked within the tourism industry for the city for sure, but growing up outside on the mainland meant he wasn’t exactly an islander – not that it mattered very much to him growing up. He relished the culture of the city and the towns surrounding it, and enjoyed the fact that he could escape the throngs of tourists when they became too much for him to bear.

Piper listened intently and only asked questions if and when Dante trailed off in thought, while her companion – Jason, he remembered absently – stayed silent and let them talk. Dante could have sworn that the other man resembled someone famous, and it bothered him throughout the entire conversation until he finally landed on the answer. He reminded Dante of Chris Evans, but with messier hair. Dante remembered he and Nico had gone to see the Captain America sequel together when it was released in Italian, and they’d agreed that the actor was at least conventionally handsome. At the time, Dante had still been trying to figure out a way to ask Nico out on a date after agreeing to be friends the first time around; the memory of that night, and how content he’d been just to be with his good friend and soon-to-be boyfriend sent his heart down towards the pit of his stomach.

Both Piper and Jason seemed to notice his discomfort, and Piper backed off on her questioning for the time being.

 _“I’m sorry for making you feel uncomfortable earlier,”_ Piper said later, when Jason left to use the bathroom. _“I thought I would be able to ask you those things without making you feel like you were being interrogated.”_

_“No one has really made me feel that way yet.”_

_“But Jason might. He was kind of anxious hearing you were here.”_

_“Why?”_

_“Jason was the first person Nico . . . came out to, I guess,”_ Piper confided. _“It was a forced confession, which still makes him uncomfortable – but since then, he’s been really protective of Nico. You’re the first person we’ve seen him get close to though. When we heard you were here, we were so excited to meet you. Well – I was excited. Jason wanted to talk to Nico, to see how he was doing.”_

Dante felt a small tendril of anxiety start to build in his stomach. If he couldn’t talk to Nico, would Jason try to ask him a bunch of questions? He was used to being the one protective of Nico, and he wasn’t sure how to deal with someone directing that protectiveness against him.

 _“I really don’t speak English that well,”_ he supplied nervously.

Piper’s delicate brow furrowed for a moment before her expression changed to one of recognition. _“Don’t worry, Jason won’t be pumping you for information. He just worries about Nico. Your boyfriend is like a kid brother to him.”_

Dante really didn’t know how to respond to that. He shrunk back away from her and Jason, who had returned from the bathroom. _“I still need some time to think and adjust,”_ he muttered, and Piper reached across the space between them to put her hand on his shoulder.

_“It’s alright. We’ll be staying in camp for a little while – we haven’t seen our little nephew in months.”_

After a moment, Dante realized she was talking about Percy’s son Galen.

_“If you need anything, come find us, alright?”_

Dante nodded and smiled, tracking their progress as the couple left. He felt a little guilty dismissing them like that, but he didn’t really feel like interacting with strangers at the moment. The only person he wanted to interact with was probably a hundred miles away by now, on a quest – whatever that meant. Even his desire to talk to Nico was hindered by his mixed emotions for what was happening between them. He’d felt so deeply betrayed by Nico’s bombshell admissions, that he’d lied throughout their relationship about some incredible things, but the longer he stayed in Camp Jupiter and New Rome the more he wanted to forgive Nico for the lies he’d told.

0o0

Nico couldn’t help but feel like they were being led in circles.

Despite their trip to the Underworld and Nico’s revelation that Annabeth really wasn’t dead, he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were missing something. The knowledge that her body remained alive and that her soul had never made the trip down the Styx should have been a comforting piece of information, but it only seemed to frustrate Percy even more. At least, if nothing else, they had a destination now. Nico understood Percy’s frustrations clearly, because the pieces weren’t adding up just yet. He himself was pretty damn annoyed.

He could count the number of fairly viable clues they had on one hand.

Perhaps the best clues they focused on was that Annabeth’s kidnapper had somehow managed to use Percy’s face in the abduction, and that it was possible that he was based out of Mount Othrys. Even with the Mist, one still had to learn how to control it and their power. Hades had also mentioned a ‘trickster.’ These clues perturbed Nico, and with not much else to go on he pushed Percy to brainstorm with him over which gods or goddesses might have that power.

Of course, the power of illusion was something that many deities possessed, making it harder to pin down. They were severely limited in their information, and the only reason Nico didn’t suggest that they simply go back to New York City to retrace their footsteps was that they knew Annabeth was somewhere in Southern California. They just had to find a monster or another demigod who knew something.

The break they’d been looking for came, ironically, with the capture of a particularly mouthy empousa. Nico recalled fighting them once or twice when he was younger, but the boldest memory he had was of hiding behind a fleshy wall in Tartarus, his hand stifling the whimpers and breath coming from his mouth as the pack of them cackled and hunted for him, trying to follow his scent through the living prison. The memory alone made him shudder.

Clearly the empousai they encountered hadn’t thought that Percy and Nico would be able to overpower them – whether by an inflated sense of their own abilities or by ignorance about their prey – and one made the mistake of taunting Percy about Annabeth’s impending demise. The look on Percy’s face as he refocused his energies and slew each monster, one by one, before pinning the remaining one to the rock wall had Nico cringing inwardly. He’d been on the receiving end of that devastating glare once before. This, he’d learned, was how Percy responded to direct threats to himself and to his loved ones; it wasn’t something he really wanted to experience again.

“Where is she?” he growled, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the empousa’s arm, Riptide’s edge digging into her neck.

“Your pretty little wife? Lost her, have you?”

Percy pressed the blade a little deeper, and the monster hissed in pain. “You know where she is.”

“Getting warmer!” the monster cackled madly, though the sound was cut off by an outraged squawk.

“Tell me!” he bellowed, and the monster just laughed.

“Percy, she’s not afraid of you,” Nico spoke up, and the attention of both Percy and the monster snapped to him. “She’s not going to say anything.”

The monster’s gleeful grin faded as she glared at Nico, souring until it looked like she had something truly distasteful in her mouth. “Not afraid of you, either,” she hissed, baring sharp teeth at him.

“Oh, you know who I am?” Nico asked mockingly.

“Ghost King,” she snapped, her lip curling. “Reaper. Oathkeeper.”

“Aahhh, so you do know me,” Nico allowed himself to smile creepily. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Percy flinch, which meant that his expression was having the desired effect. “So let’s try this again: I swear that I will slowly crush your bones into dust where you stand unless you answer our questions. Do you understand me?”

The monster nodded vigorously.

“Ask your question again, Percy,” Nico said, his hard gaze not leaving the monster’s.

“Where is Annabeth?” Percy asked, unable to hide the hesitancy now that Nico was using every trick in his book to intimidate the monster into talking.

“Mount Othrys,” the monster immediately answered. “The Master wanted to continue the mission of his leaders.”

Nico rolled his eyes at the mention of ‘The Master.’ How cliché.

“Who is your master? Why did he kidnap her?”

“You stole it,” is the response they get. Percy looks incredibly perplexed by it.

“Stole what?” he exclaims.

“Everything,” the monster hissed. “You stole everything from him, Percy Jackson, and now you will understand what it means to have all of that ripped away!” In his confusion over her words, Percy’s grip must have weakened because seconds later the monster broke his grip, slashing her claws across his face and neck before darting in to take a bite out of his neck.

“Shit,” Nico breathed, lurching forward to pull her back. She rounded on him, baring yellowed fangs before he separated her head from her neck in one swift slice. She screamed, dissolving into dust. Nico stared at the spot where she’d stood for a few seconds, before shaking himself out of his daze when he heard Percy cursing to himself. He pulled his pack from his shoulders and tore his pack apart until he found some nectar and bandages.

“You killed her?” Percy groaned. “Seriously?”

Nico stared at him. “What are you talking about? Of course I killed her.”

“We could have used her for information!”

“We got what we needed,” Nico reasoned with him, giving Percy a withering look. “We got plenty of information – so come here and let me see those claw marks.”

Percy grudgingly allowed Nico to clean the jagged wounds on his neck and jaw, fidgeting and seething in his spot.

“We’re not far off from Mount Othrys,” Nico pointed out. “We’re actually pretty close.”

“Why Mount Othrys, though? What’s there? Why is it important?”

Nico paused, rifling through his memories of important places and battles. “It’s where Jason took down the Titan general, when we fought the Battle of New York.”

“And this guy is trying to keep the general’s mission alive. Awesome. If he’s trying to resurrect the Titans, we’re going to have a serious problem.”

“We already have a problem. Did you hear what she said before she cut you up? You stole, and I quote, everything from this guy. Remember when I asked you if you’d stolen anything recently? Would you care to amend that statement?”

“I haven’t stolen anything,” Percy stated firmly. “How could I steal everything from a person without being aware of it?”

Nico lapsed into silent thought. He knew Percy was fairly oblivious, but he wasn’t oblivious or stupid enough to steal something physical from another demigod or god without expecting some sort of consequences. He couldn’t help but wonder if this was something less . . . straightforward than Percy stealing an object or multiple objects.

0o0

Later that evening, after they’d set up camp in a small glade, Nico sat on the edge of the campsite to take first watch. Percy was watching him warily from afar, because he was worried that Nico didn’t trust him enough to complete this quest. Percy didn’t want to believe that Annabeth’s kidnapping was all his fault, and he’d been wracking his brain to try and come up with something, anything, that might help them identify who this jackass was and bring her home. As he watched, he saw a glint of gold in Nico’s hand. During the fight earlier, he’d seen something shiny fly out of the pocket of Nico’s jeans. The younger demigod had been frantic after it landed, only relaxing when he claimed the piece of gold; Percy had even seen him pat the pocket of his jacket occasionally since then to reassure himself. Now, he could see that the bit of gold was in fact a slightly tarnished pocket watch on a simple gold chain.

Nico was holding the pocket watch carefully in the palm of his hand, gently rubbing his thumb over the detailed edges absently.

Though Percy knew he probably wasn’t exactly invited, he felt his curiosity getting away with him. He sat beside Nico, while still giving him the space he wanted. “What is that?” he asked.

Nico startled, closing his hand around the watch and holding it close to his chest while glaring at Percy with wide eyes.

“Sorry,” Percy said automatically. “I just noticed it earlier. I hadn’t seen it before.”

Nico didn’t answer for a short while. He looked horribly uncomfortable, Percy noted. “It’s Dante’s,” he answered softly a few moments later, cupping it protectively in his palm while still allowing Percy to see it. The watch was clearly old, and had been intricately engraved with three initials Percy didn’t recognize.

There was a story there, Percy knew. “It’s beautiful,” he commented.

The corners of Nico’s mouth twitched up into a soft smile, as if recalling a pleasant memory. “He gave this to me for my birthday. I don’t want to lose it.”

“It looks pretty old.”

“It was his grandfather’s,” Nico said, tracing the initials.

“So, old and very special,” Percy concluded, frowning slightly. “You knew this could be a dangerous mission. Why’d you bring something so valuable?”

Nico stiffened and tucked the watch back into his pocket. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Oh, really? Try me,” Percy challenged him.

The son of Hades glared at the ground, his mouth twisting. “I wanted something of his close. To remind myself that I had someone waiting for me. To keep me moving forward.”

“What makes you think I wouldn’t understand that?” Percy asked, a little waspishly.

“You’ve always had someone waiting for you or watching out for you. You’ve never needed a reminder, because you knew they were looking out for you.”

“Bullshit,” Percy said, reaching into his pocket and producing a folded Post-It note. Nico eyed it warily before picking it up and unfolding it. Percy watched as his dark eyes flitted over the words Percy had likely long since memorized and could recite by heart – which indeed he did on occasion to remind himself that he needed to focus and find Annabeth. He saw it clearly in his mind’s eye as Nico read word by word:

_I’m pretty sure our son started speaking in fish while you were at work today. I thought for a second it might just be baby babble, but then I saw all the fish in the tank swarming in front of him. He must be quite the conversationalist to get even the minnows interested. I wish you’d been here so you could tell me what he was saying. Of course your son would pick the one language I can’t understand to start speaking in, the little shit <3 I can see him taking after you already. We might seriously be in trouble. I can already see us on vacation and snorkeling while he communes with dolphins and sharks while we (I) panic._

_Do you think he might be able to handle going to the aquarium (and not jumping in the tank)? I think that might be a really amazing experience for him._

It was signed with a little heart doodle. Percy went on to explain that they often left each other notes like that when they stayed at home with Galen while the other was at work, just to let each other know about a fun thing that happened that day. That had been the last note Annabeth had written him, a day before she’d been kidnapped.

“I’m sorry,” Nico said. “I didn’t know you carried this.”

Percy took the note back. “We all need a little reminder sometimes.”

 


	8. Part 2 Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not long after they’d left the Underworld, Nico started having nightmares again. Some were old dreams, ones he’d had since he was a teenager – those he could handle, they were remnants of old pains, like the loss of his Mama and Bianca, of discovering the terrifying truth to his own powers. Some night’s memories of Tartarus crept in, making him jerk awake before they could descend into a horror show that he knew would have him screaming. Those nights made him pine for the comfort and warmth Dante always provided, the soft tone of his voice slowly easing him out of his mind and back to reality, where he was safe. Once or twice he caught glimpses of blonde hair and grey eyes, but those were fleeting and always transformed into memories that he figured were better left forgotten.

Chapter 6

The road to Mount Othrys was more perilous than either of them anticipated. Monsters hunted them day and night, so they took restful breaks whenever they could, managing to make the most headway during daylight. They hiked throughout the day, occasionally using shadow travel to escape or tackle tough terrain when they needed to, but they tried not to use it very much. Nico was wary of overextending himself and his powers the way he had with Reyna, Hedge, and the Athena Parthenos. The after effects of that had been frightening; he didn’t want to experience them again – especially not around Percy. He felt like he was letting down enough of his guard just traveling with the other man, and the last thing he wanted was to be even more vulnerable in his presence.

Not long after they’d left the Underworld, Nico started having nightmares again. Some were old dreams, ones he’d had since he was a teenager – those he could handle, they were remnants of old pains, like the loss of his Mama and Bianca, of discovering the terrifying truth to his own powers. Some night’s memories of Tartarus crept in, making him jerk awake before they could descend into a horror show that he knew would have him screaming. Those nights made him pine for the comfort and warmth Dante always provided, the soft tone of his voice slowly easing him out of his mind and back to reality, where he was safe. Once or twice he caught glimpses of blonde hair and grey eyes, but those were fleeting and always transformed into memories that he figured were better left forgotten. Nico soon found himself sleeping less, and offering to keep watch for most of the night while Percy slept almost as fitfully.

He didn’t have a mirror, but based on Percy’s reactions and growing concern Nico was sure that the dark circles were back under his eyes, and that his skin was beginning to take on a peakish quality once more. There wasn’t much to be done, though. He’d grown used to sleeping beside someone who knew how to comfort him, and Nico absolutely did not want to open himself up to Percy’s questions. He was almost certain Percy knew something was going on; it was impossible not to notice the little details when you were in close proximity to the other person, but thankfully Percy kept his mouth shut.

0o0

Dante had found that he kind of liked Camp Jupiter because it reminded him a bit of Italy. He still didn’t feel quite at home there, but at least some things were familiar to him. He’d meandered through the camp and town aimlessly one morning, keeping to himself and just watching the residents going about their daily lives. They all seemed like normal people, aside from the fact that some wore togas, the statues around the Forum talked and hurled abuse in Latin, and there was almost no modern technology in sight. Dante avoided the Forum itself, remembering walking through the ruins in the capital city with Nico earlier that year, and headed in the direction of shouting and pounding feet. After a brief walk Dante came upon what looked like a training ground. Reyna, on a bulky bay horse, was leading what appeared to be over a hundred soldiers in drills. It was unlike anything he’d ever seen.

As he walked, he started thinking, despite the fact that it had become a somewhat distressing pastime since Nico’s revelations. His thoughts always came back to the fact that Nico had lied to him; it was always a sticking point for Dante, no matter whether the other person was his acquaintance, friend, or boyfriend, honesty was necessary for their relationship to continue and thrive. Dishonesty meant that he had trouble trusting the person in the future, and the extremity of Nico’s lies should have told Dante under no uncertain terms could he trust the other man again. It was simply too much for him to have hidden and lied about.

Yet as he walked through the camp, quietly observing people living their lives, he began to wonder about this little community Nico called home. He’d said, when Nico was trying to explain the situation, that the camp was necessary to protect people like him – children of the Greek and Roman gods. Dante remembered wanting to laugh or denounce him for blasphemy, but found he couldn’t. Nico had never once claimed to be Catholic or even Christian for as long as he’d known him. In fact, there had been a particularly strange discussion, before meeting Dante’s family, that Nico was an atheist but that he would pretend to be Catholic so Dante’s family didn’t hate him. Now, thinking back, Dante wondered if that was the easier explanation as opposed to trying to describe polytheism to a person who’d grown up monotheistic.

Nico spoke of the attack in Venice as if it was something that happened fairly regularly – that he’d been attacked by monsters before. If the scars on his boyfriend’s body were anything to go by, he’d definitely been attacked by creatures before. He’d nearly been killed before. That thought was particularly unsettling. The fact that he was out trekking through the wilderness now made Dante nervous. Was he safe?

If it was true, and being in a camp like this was really the best protection for Nico and the rest of these people, then Dante could start to see why he’d lied. It didn’t completely make sense to him, but he couldn’t help but wonder if he really was being too hard on Nico for his choices. It was still difficult for him to accept that Nico had been more concerned with protecting his identity than being honest with someone who valued honesty a great deal.

At a certain point, Dante realized that he’d been staring across the valley at absolutely nothing for a while. He could almost hear Nico teasing, _‘No wonder I can see smoke coming from your ears!’_ and once again, the loss of his companion hit him hard.

His thoughts drifted to dwell on Nico, to his shy smile, his sarcastic wit, and the comforting warmth of his hands and body when they just curled together on the couch or in bed. Unbidden, the memories transformed and all Dante could see was the broken expression Nico had worn the last few times he saw him.

Dante wondered how he was faring with Percy – Nico had painted a picture of an infuriating, proud, and at times thoughtless teenager, and while Dante couldn’t be sure how much of those characteristics remained, he just hoped Nico hadn’t abandoned him out of frustration just yet. Their reunion certainly didn’t seem warm or happy, so Dante had decided that there wasn’t any reason to worry; his initial jealous reactions embarrassed him now, and he felt secure that Nico didn’t want the other man any more. Now it was more a jealousy of time, the time Dante was losing trying to figure out his feelings while Nico was on this quest.

Despite the offer that had been extended by Piper, Dante was reluctant to get in contact with Nico. He was still reeling from shock and the abrupt exposure of ongoing lies and misinformation. Sometimes when he dwelled on his feelings towards Nico and his own reaction to the lies, he wanted to cut ties and never speak with him again. Dante had done that to his first boyfriend, though admittedly with extensive help from his brothers and sisters. That situation had been clear, and he had no qualms about breaking off contact. This situation was entirely different. He wondered what his siblings would say if he told them what was happening.

They would probably think he was crazy.

Still, they liked Nico. He’d been unofficially adopted by his parents and siblings, and he wondered how they would react if they knew he’d been lying – even if the intent was to protect Dante.

He set off to find Piper not long after that, hope and reticence broiling in his stomach at the thought of talking to Nico again after what felt like an eternity.

0o0

While the first few times they’d been able to hold their own, a flock of gryphons had descended as they made their way north, slowly getting closer to Mount Othrys. Panicked, Nico grabbed Percy and shadow traveled them to the dense Redwood forest.

The argument that ensued was the culmination of several aimless days of built up annoyance and insecurity. Nico wasn’t proud of it, but he couldn’t help but feel that his decision to help Percy had been a terrible one. Percy’s arrival had taken away his ability to talk to Dante on his own terms, and had pulled him away from his boyfriend at a critical time when they needed to rebuild trust and the relationship on a whole. Furthermore, Nico found he really couldn’t sleep as much as he needed; his nights were plagued by nightmares like he hadn’t had in ages. He’d managed to wake himself up long before he could start to panic in his sleep again, which left him agitated and exhausted throughout the day.

Following their last narrow escape, Percy had snapped at Nico out of frustration, and Nico had barely held back a vicious retort; instead, he demanded that Percy go walk it off or something. Once Percy was gone, Nico deflated. It was as if, now that they were on their own and in each other’s space constantly, nothing had ever changed between them. Nico knew it had to change if they were going to get anywhere.

He’d curled himself up against the base of a tree, his coat pulled tight around him as he dozed fitfully and waited for Percy to calm down. More than anything right now, he wished he had Dante to talk to. Even when Nico couldn’t give much away, Dante had always lent a willing ear when he needed to talk something out. It was one of his characteristics that helped him relax in Dante’s presence in the first place – Dante never pushed him to reveal more than he was ready to, but when Nico was ready he always listened. Dante shared in his own time as well, and never expected that his revelations would be matched immediately. Just knowing what he’d had and that he might have ruined the honesty in their relationship made Nico feel sick.

Nico had been wallowing for what felt like hours when he heard a familiar voice saying his name. At first he assumed it must have been Percy, seeking him out to apologize before he was ready to accept and move on, but as he heard the voice a second time he began to wonder if it was a trick of his own imagination, or a cruel prank; the third time he heard Dante saying his name he looked up, and saw the image of his boyfriend floating in front of him.

Dante looked like he hadn’t been sleeping altogether too well; he was disheveled and seemed tired, though worry seemed to be the overwhelming emotion now. His gaze never left Nico’s face, and neither did the frown. “ _You look like hell,”_ Dante muttered simply.

Why did this have to be so awkward?

 _“I feel like it, too,”_ Nico cleared his throat. _“And you know, having lived in the equivalent of hell for a little while, I don’t joke with that description. Are you using Iris messaging?”_

Dante nodded. _“Piper and Jason showed me how.”_

Nico found himself nodding and looking away; Dante was probably pissed that he was meeting even more people from his past that he’d kept hidden.

Another moment passed before Dante cleared his throat, pulling Nico’s attention back to him. _“Have you been sleeping?”_

 _“Not a lot,”_ Nico shrugged.

The next time he forced himself to look at the image of his boyfriend, Nico was unfazed by the deep frown set into Dante’s face. It looked wrong on him . . . but Nico felt too numb to comment.

_“You really need to sleep.”_

_“That’s a little hard out here.”_

_“Try anyway.”_

_“Why?”_ Nico snorted. _“So I can have vivid nightmares? So I can remember every mistake I made at once?”_

Dante flinched; a stranger wouldn’t have caught it, but Nico had been studying his boyfriend’s body language for a year now. He knew when he was in pain. _“How bad are they?”_ he asked quietly.

 _“Like in March,”_ Nico said bluntly by way of explanation. He knew Dante would understand.

Sure enough, Dante’s eyes widened in alarm. That night had been ingrained in both of their minds since then, and Nico hoped that Dante never had to deal with a terrified and inconsolable demigod again. _“I wish I was there . . . to help you.”_

 _“No you don’t,”_ Nico muttered, shaking his head. _“And I wouldn’t want you out here. It’s too dangerous.”_

Dante looked down, his expression shifting to one of shame and sadness. _“So I’m finding out.”_

After a few moments of awkward silence, Nico couldn’t take it anymore. _“How is New Rome?”_

Dante snorted, picking up on his diversion. _“It’s ok. People are nice – the ones I can talk to, anyway. Hazel was very nice.”_

Nico realized he hadn’t really considered that Dante would have that hard of a time communicating. _“I’m so sorry,”_ he started, but Dante cut him off.

 _“Listen – things are difficult. I don’t know where we are right now,”_ Dante said carefully, drawing Nico’s gaze back up to his image – so far away and yet his voice felt unbearably close. _“But I don’t want anything to happen to you. I need you to come back. So please – please be careful.”_

Nico felt his heart thump in his chest at those words, like it was awakening after a coma to pump fresh blood back into his veins. He looked up, feeling a bloom of hope inside him for the first time since they’d left Venice as he met Dante’s gaze. It was sad, the look his boyfriend was giving him, but it betrayed the same quiet hope that Nico held tight to his heart. Dante gave him a small, sad smile, one that clearly said ‘Things aren’t perfect, and I want to forgive you, but the time isn’t right yet.’ He reached out tentatively, the tips of his fingers getting dangerously close to the edge of the image before him; Nico wanted to touch Dante so badly in that moment, to have his boyfriend pull him into a tight embrace until he never wanted to be anyplace else, but he remembered in the last second that if he did touch, the connection would break. Nico sacrificed his tactile need for the emotional one, and pulled his hand back, muttering platitudes under his breath. Everything would be ok, even if his eyes really seemed to want to cry now.

 _“Please stay safe,”_ Dante implored him, chewing on his lip. _“Come back soon . . . I want to talk again, face to face.”_

 _“You do?”_ Nico couldn’t even keep the wrecked nature of his voice in check.

Dante nodded slowly. _“I think we need to, don’t you?”_

_“Do you think . . . uh. Do you think we’ll be ok?”_

Dante didn’t answer. He chewed on his lip, and Nico felt his chest clench horribly. _“I miss you,”_ he said instead. _“Will you be ok?”_

Nico nodded, jerkily moving his head. _“Yeah. We’ll be fine.”_

_“You trust Percy?”_

_“Mostly. He knows I’m on his side this time, so maybe we’ll be better this time around.”_

_“Good luck, Nico. I’ll be in touch; Piper taught me how to send these messages.”_

_“Tell her I said ‘thank you.’ I’d love to hear from you. It’ll make this quest more bearable.”_

Dante smiled a little at him, looking weary and sad. _“I’ll try to call more often, if you’d like. I miss you.”_

 _“I would like that,”_ Nico answered, feeling a little lighter already.

Dante nodded, silently promising to continue the tentative contact, and the message disconnected.

Nico felt the loss physically, like a sharp punch to the solar plexus. There was an ache developing in his chest now that Dante was no longer within sight, reminding him that he was far away from his boyfriend now. The magnetic pull he’d felt towards Dante tugged at his ribcage, but he resisted the urge to pull the shadows around himself and make the journey back to Camp Jupiter. He’d made a promise to Percy that he would help him, so he couldn’t just abandon him now when he felt emotionally weak.

Percy came back, looking much calmer than before, about half an hour later – long after Nico had composed himself enough that he didn’t feel like he was giving too much of his feelings away. Percy was already somewhat privileged to his relationship woes, and he really didn’t want him to consider getting involved.

“I’m sorry,” Percy said, looking ashamed. “I shouldn’t have blown up at you.”

Nico huffed, pursing his lips. “It’s ok. I think we both got a little out of hand.”

Percy shifted on his feet awkwardly. “I made some soup, if you’d like some.”

Nico lifted an eyebrow. Percy’s attempts at food were not exactly stellar thus far.

“From a can,” Percy amended. “No need to be a jerk about it,” he teased.

“Hey, I just want to make sure you’re not going to try and poison me again. Don’t ever make soup. Just don’t.”

“I’ll keep that in mind and let you do the cooking in the future.”

Not for the first time, Nico thought wistfully of the meals Dante made them and tried not to get carried away in his memories.

0o0

Percy had promised himself that he would respect Nico’s boundaries. He’d vowed to himself, the moment Nico agreed to come on this quest with him, that he wouldn’t push Nico into being friends with him, or insist that they bonded. He wanted to try and show Nico that he could be a decent, understanding guy, and that he wasn’t the careless ass he’d been as a kid growing up anymore. Maybe, now that they were both older and more mature, they could build a friendship of sorts from the ground up.

He’d forgotten that they were both stubborn. Nico was different, yes, but it was clear that he still wasn’t sure what to think about Percy. Despite Nico claiming that he’d moved on and wasn’t interested in rehashing their less than stellar past, Percy was almost positive that he still held some sort of grudge.

Percy hated feeling that Nico was still holding something he’d done as an idiot teenager over his head. His trek through Tartarus had taught him a lot about himself, and when he started to think about it he began to understand a little more of what Nico had gone through, which only made him feel worse than he already did.

When he began to worry that he and Annabeth would never escape Tartarus, Percy could remember bargaining with himself. If they escaped, he’d make sure Annabeth never had to question how important she was to him. If they got out, he’d be the best son his mother could ever ask for. If they felt sunlight again, he would try to make it up to Nico: he’d apologize, and give him the recognition and respect he deserved.

Well, that kind of blew up in his face. Nico clearly didn’t want any of that, and had shut him down before he could even finish expressing his thoughts.

He had talked about Nico with Annabeth on the occasion that they had a moment’s peace; she brought him up first, mentioning how worried she was for him, and Percy described what had taken place between them. What surprised him ultimately was that Annabeth didn’t seem at all surprised by Nico’s reaction. Ever the voice of reason, Annabeth had encouraged Percy to try and make amends once more after everything quieted down.

Over the last few weeks since her disappearance, Percy had been trying to find a way to keep himself from going completely crazy in her absence. He’d been paralyzed with shock after finding out about her kidnapping by being arrested, and he found it very difficult to make sense of it all even after that was over. He was desperately afraid for her safety. He knew in his bones that she could take care of herself and would smack him for insinuating that he worried she couldn’t, but he still worried. If whoever took her was truly targeting him, there was no telling what could happen to her. Percy tried not to think about it too much.

0o0

That night, Nico dreamed of Annabeth again.

It had taken him a couple of nights to realize that he recognized the flash of blonde hair and steely grey eyes that had featured in a few dreams he’d had in Venice. After checking with Hazel, Nico had come to the conclusion that the dreams were just that – _dreams_ , with no ulterior motive or purpose aside from making him question himself and his subconscious. Furthermore, Percy hadn’t been the recipient of any dreams, which cemented Nico’s theory that his subconscious was playing games with him.

This time, something in the dream made Nico pause and pay closer attention to it. The lighting was dim, but he could see Annabeth sitting directly in front of him, her arms wrapped around her shins. Her expression betrayed only a deadly calm that even Nico understood meant someone or something would die horribly if she had it her way.

 _He’s not going to kill me,_ she thought, and Nico started. He’d never heard someone speak like this in one of his dreams, and it felt more than a little strange to hear Annabeth’s voice in his head after so long. _He’s not going to kill me,_ she thought again, more insistently than before.

 _Who?_ Nico tried to ask, unsure if his voice would even make it through the thick dreamspace. Communicating through dreams had never been his forte.

Yet, Annabeth’s eyes widened as if she both heard him and recognized his voice. _I don’t know his name,_ she thought in a rush. _He was wearing Percy’s face at first._

 _And now?_ Nico prompted her, frowning when her expression shuttered.

_I feel like I’ve met him before. He says . . . Percy took something from him._

Nico groaned loudly. Even when Percy was trying to be helpful, sometimes he just did things that pissed everyone around him off – and most of the time he had no idea why the other person was angry with him. It just figured that this creep was trying to get back at Percy for whatever he did, even if he was doing something so stupid and shameful as using Annabeth to do it. _That doesn’t actually narrow our list very much_ , he answered wryly.

 _Demigod,_ Annabeth supplied. _I think I met him when I was younger. He keeps commenting that I’ve grown up._

Nico cringed at that bit of information, but filed the rest away for later. _Old or young?_

_He changes his face all the time. He likes pretending to be Percy._

Nico shuddered fully at the implications of those words. _We’re going to find you._

 _Be careful,_ Annabeth warned, before Nico’s dream was cut off with a curse and a scream that echoed in his skull as he woke abruptly, jolting in his sleeping bag.

Percy was crouched beside him, if sneakers he saw gave any indication. Nico groaned and tried to burrow back under his pillow, away from Percy’s gaze. Nico was always – always – glad that Dante was the only person who ever saw what he looked like after getting up in the morning. He was usually embarrassed about the messiness of his hair and his general lack of a functioning brain. Dante affectionately teased that he looked like a demented sloth when he woke up.

So when he began picking up on the sound of Percy chuckling, he knew he must have been quite a sight. Nico groaned and rolled onto his stomach, grimacing at the roughness of the camping pillow. It was coarse, and didn’t smell like Dante at all. Definitely not the least bit comforting.

“Are you alive?” Percy asked, sounding like he was on the verge of giggles.

“Against my better judgment, yes,” he grunted. “Please don’t say anything. I know I look like a demented sloth.”

“Your words, not mine,” Percy snickered.

“Dante’s words,” Nico corrected him.

“Oh. Really?” the son of Poseidon asked. He seemed intrigued by that bit of information.

“I like it marginally better than the phrase ‘sleeping like the dead.’”

“I thought by now you’d be totally owning your heritage like that. And by the way, you totally do sleep like the dead. Just not for long hours at a time.”

“I don’t need much sleep.”

Percy was quiet for a few moments. Then, “I was worried you were having a nightmare.”

Nico grabbed an English muffin from their bag and started eating it in small pieces. “I was.”

“Like, a prophetic one?”

Nico shook his head. “No, not a prophetic one. I just . . . found her, somehow.”

Percy grabbed Nico’s biceps and squeezed. “Is she ok? What did she say?”

Nico shied out of his tight grip and gave himself a few feet of distance between them before he started relaying what he’d seen and what Annabeth said. Percy looked utterly lost as he processed the information; Nico could almost see the cogs in his brain turning rapidly, clicking random pieces of the puzzle into place.

“I took something from this guy?” he asked, pacing now. “What the hell kind of response is that?”

“It’s not actually all that unbelievable,” Nico mused.

“Thanks,” Percy snapped caustically. “This guy kidnaps Annabeth over a stupid beef, and you’ve got jokes.”

“I’m not joking, Percy – I’m totally serious. When was the last time you went on a quest?”

There was a pause, and Percy gave him a significant look. “Gaea.”

“And did you take anything on that quest? Anything at all, that someone could say was stolen?”

“No! I mean, we kidnapped Nike temporarily –“

Nico groaned loudly.

“But we returned her! And that was six years ago, no one should still be missing her.”

Nico rubbed his eyes with heels of his palms, still groaning. “You _stole_ the goddess of victory, though. If that doesn’t represent some kind of symbolism to some people, I don’t know what is.”

“Do you really think this might be about her?” Percy asked cautiously.

After a moment, Nico shook his head. “Nike doesn’t have the power of illusion like that, and I don’t think her kids do either.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever met a child of Nike,” Percy muttered absently.

“She doesn’t have many. They like to stick to politics and sports.”

“So no one I’d really interact with on a daily basis. I’m sure Annabeth gave us a couple more clues to go on in there somewhere.”

“Annabeth did say that she might have met him when she was younger. She said he was making comments about how much she’d grown up.”

Percy _did not like_ those insinuations.

“I need you to stay calm,” Nico hissed, “I can’t do this by myself.”

“I know! I know, ok? What else did she say?”

“He keeps changing faces,” Nico murmured with a frown. “He doesn’t want her to see his face.”

“So she doesn’t recognize him? Doesn’t that take a lot of power, if he’s maintaining it constantly?”

Nico nodded. “Hazel’s a pretty powerful witch, but she doesn’t have it down yet. Pluto isn’t a god who’s really strongly associated with magic though – Hazel’s kind of an anomaly. We need someone with magic in their blood.”

“Like a child of Hecate?” Percy suggested, his tone and expression grave.

“Like a child of Hecate.”


	9. Part 2 Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dante was finally starting to find his comfort zone within the unfamiliar camp when Nico’s sister Hazel – whom he hadn’t seen for several days – found him sitting in a shaded alcove by a long series of altars.

Chapter 7

Dante was finally starting to find his comfort zone within the unfamiliar camp when Nico’s sister Hazel – whom he hadn’t seen for several days – found him sitting in a shaded alcove by a long series of altars. He felt exhausted, having spent the morning talking to his family through Iris messaging (which luckily seemed to translate into a phone call for his parents), soothing their worries after his disappearance. The lies came easily when he didn’t have to look Mama in the eyes: their disappearance became a spontaneous trip Nico had planned, and the damage to their apartment building became a break-in. Dante despised lying and disliked how quickly and easily the words came to mind, but they were a necessary evil, he supposed.

Since the call ended Dante had been thinking a lot about necessary evils and whether that was how Nico really thought of his own lies.

He’d been watching the people of New Rome from afar, still feeling like an outsider many times over despite having been welcomed by Reyna and a few of the others, when a shadow passed in his vision and he looked up to find Hazel beaming at him, her gold eyes glinting in the slivers of sunlight. He waved and greeted her tentatively in English, before she waved her hand between them and held out a small medallion. Upon closer examination, Dante could see that it was a pin. He raised a questioning eyebrow to her, wondering about the meaning.

Hazel gestured to his chest and asked, “May I?”

Dante shrugged, unsure of the importance of the medallion or why he should wear it. There must have been something about it though, because Hazel did a little dance and leaned in, pinning the medallion to Dante’s shirt.

“Alright, I hope this works. I hate not being able to talk to you.”

Dante started, his eyes wide when he realized he was listening to _Hazel_ , who was definitely speaking English. The language had been the toughest subject for him throughout primary school, and he was thrilled to abandon its study after secondary school. Dante had been the class embarrassment, and he spent too many adolescent hours ashamed that languages were not his forte. Yet here was Hazel, who definitely couldn’t speak Italian, and Dante could understand her perfectly. “What did you do?” he asked breathlessly.

Hazel’s smile broadened exponentially. “Is it working? You can understand me?”

Dante nodded faintly. “Can you understand me?” When Hazel nodded proudly, he asked, “Am I speaking English?”

Hazel shook her head. “You’re speaking Italian, but the medallion translates for you. I hear English.”

Dante touched the medallion on his chest. “Is it magic, or something?”

Nico’s sister plopped down on the bench beside him, tossing her long braid over her shoulder. “A little bit. It was a spoil of war I won on my last quest. It was blessed by Mercury, the Roman god of communication. I thought maybe it would help us all communicate better.”

“How does it work?” Dante pulled the piece up closer to his face, examining the engraved image of a staff and serpents.

Hazel pursed her lips. “You know when someone is speaking English to you, and you need to take a moment to process what they’re saying in your head?” When he nodded again, she continued. “It’s like that. It translates what I say automatically for you, and translates your words for me. Pretty cool, right?”

“I guess I have to think before I speak now, because people will actually be able to understand,” Dante muttered wryly, only half kidding.

Hazel snorted, then dissolved into giggles. She reminded him suddenly of his younger sisters. When they finally subsided, she looked over at him with mirth in her eyes. “Nico told me you were funny.”

Dante ducked his head to try and hide the blush that spread over his cheeks. He knew that Nico must have told his sister about him – he remembered a conversation wherein Nico suggested that sometime soon he and Hazel should meet, even. But he never really knew what Nico was actually saying about him. “I’m not really that funny.”

Hazel hummed, nudging her shoulder against his. “Nico’s not the kind of person to oversell someone – not anymore, anyway,” she amended. “I was so excited to finally meet you, but it’s kind of hard to talk to someone when there’s a language barrier. Plus, for a little while there you were pretty freaked out.”

“Still pretty freaked out, to be honest,” Dante sighed. “I don’t really know what I should be doing.”

“I heard you talked with Nico the other night.”

Dante nodded. “I wanted to see how he was.”

“I’m sure he was really glad to see and talk to you,” Hazel said gently, placing her hand on his shoulder. “I know you two didn’t part on the best of terms.”

Dante pursed his lips, not really wanting to air his relationship woes even with Nico’s beloved sister. She was still a part of the secret world Nico kept from him, and it wasn’t something he liked doing. His and Nico’s troubles were their own, and he was sure that his boyfriend wouldn’t want their dirty laundry on display.

“It’s ok, we don’t have to talk about that,” she said easily, steering the conversation away from more sensitive topics. “I really do want to get to know you. Nico’s very secretive about you.”

“ _I’m_ the secret?” he asked, arching an eyebrow at her.

Hazel sighed in concession. “Nico’s been lying to protect himself for years. It’s always been hard for him to make friends, because he’s never sure if he can trust the other person. I told him he should tell you about . . . all this, but I knew he was scared. He didn’t want you to think he was a freak. I’m not defending him. I just understand how he feels.”

Dante looked her over. “Who’s ever treated you like a freak?”

“It’s a legitimate fear for us, you know. As young children we can be ostracized simply because we present as having ADD, ADHD, and dyslexia. It’s harder for us to read and concentrate, harder for us to fit in. Nico grew up thinking it was strange and unnatural to be attracted to other men, so he kept his identity and his feelings a secret. And me? I grew up thinking I was cursed. That and Nico brought me back from the dead,” she said frankly. “I was terrified what would happen when people found out.”

Dante was absolutely dumbstruck by that revelation. “Nico . . . he can do that?”

“He’s pretty amazing,” Hazel said fondly.

The sentiment echoed in Dante’s mind, but it also confused him even more. The abilities he’d seen were truly in the realm of God, but Nico had steadfastly explained that none of them had anything to do with his Christian God or Jesus.

“You look pensive. Tell me what’s on your mind,” Hazel prodded him gently.

It took a few moments for Dante to gather his thoughts. “You know I’m Catholic, right?” At her nod, he continued. “All this is totally at odds with how I was brought up. ‘One God’ was reinforced early on, so it’s really hard for me to accept that this is something that . . . happens. I feel like I have to suspend belief in something that’s become a core part of me in order to understand and accept what Nico is and what he’s going through.”

“Don’t have a crisis of faith over us. We’re just . . . kids with an absentee parent who have some weird talents.”

“Who can occasionally raise the dead,” Dante pointed out, his voice a little weak.

“That’s Nico’s territory. And he’s said I was a unique case, so I don’t think he’ll be resurrecting anyone else any time soon.You won’t find any other demigods with those kinds of powers, thouh. My brother is one of a kind.”

“I can see why he wouldn’t want to tell me these things. I probably would have run away screaming if he told me before.”

Hazel raised an eyebrow at him. “You did get pretty close to that.”

“That was a lot to take in, you have to admit. It was a lot to process all of a sudden. I’m still not sure I’ve totally processed all of this information.”

“I know it is,” she said quietly. “Thank you, though, for talking to him. I know for a fact that he was terrified of what would happen when you found out, and he couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.”

That had occurred to him too – how afraid he was that he’d never speak to Nico again. He’d become such an integral part of Dante’s life – he was his best friend, his confidant and emotional support, his lover . . . and Dante didn’t want to lose the deep connection they’d been nurturing. Somehow, he had to find a way to fully forgive Nico if he wanted to start rebuilding their trust.

“I don’t want to lose him either,” he said, and Hazel squeezed his hand with a reassuring smile.

With the medallion, Dante finally felt confident enough to meet some of Nico’s old acquaintances. Piper formally introduced him to Jason, who seemed like a genuinely nice, laid-back guy. Dante was surprised to find out that he was a religious leader of sorts, in charge of acknowledging and honoring the multitude of deities that made up the Greek and Roman pantheons. Based on the conversation Dante had with him, Jason spent most of his time organizing searches for unclaimed demigods and recruiting them for the camps. He spoke fondly of Nico though, and seemed genuinely concerned with his welfare and happiness.  Dante shared a little of what their lives were like in Venice, and found that he enjoyed Jason’s quiet company. It surprised him to discover the identity of Jason’s father, because it seemed so at odds with his personality. Reyna assured him that Jason’s parentage assured that he was actually a brilliant leader.

Everyone he met had clearly been friends for a long time, and it showed through their camaraderie and enjoyment of each other’s company. They reminded him of his own circle of friends back home, and he found himself thinking that it might not be so bad to be around Nico’s old friends more often.

0o0

After the first Iris message between Nico and Dante, Percy had become even more intrigued by the other man – to the point where his interest became a welcome distraction from the constant underlying fear he felt for Annabeth. He hadn’t had much time to get to know Dante, and just seeing Nico with someone had been a pretty huge shock. He still didn’t feel all that comfortable asking Nico about something so private either, since the friendship they were building was still so tentative and fragile: the last thing he wanted to do was destroy it by asking invasive questions he had no right to ask.

Still, Nico’s expression after the call had stayed stuck in the back of his mind for the last few days. It was hard for him to decipher, but he decided that it was like someone had breathed new life into him after days of being drained of energy. He looked a little sad, which Percy understood perfectly well, but just . . . better. The color was back in his face, the dark circles under his eyes looked a little less like harsh bruises, and his body language was calmer. Percy couldn’t help but wonder whether this was the effect Dante had on Nico.

Dante called again a few nights later, and Nico deliberately disappeared into the woods to talk with him. Percy watched him go, and assured him that he would keep an eye on the camp and go over the clues they had. Now, Percy was not stupid enough to deliberately intrude on a private conversation when he and Nico were still trying to get past their less than stellar relationship – but that didn’t stop him from being overwhelmingly curious. Nico had always been an enigma to him, and now he was getting the chance to see him open up a little, bit by bit. He wanted to know _more._ When he returned, Nico looked so absurdly content – his cheeks were flushed and there was a secretive smile on his face – that Percy couldn’t help himself; he broke down and asked. “What’s he like?”

Nico started, surprised by the question. “Huh?”

“Dante. What’s he like?”

“He’s,” Nico looked down, the corners of his mouth still drawn up in a quiet smile, “Dante’s really great.”

“Don’t strain yourself, di Angelo,” Percy teased.

“No, he is. He’s wonderful. A better person than I could have ever imagined being with.”

“I know I kind of screwed things up with you guys,” Percy admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. “I’m sorry about that.”

“It was bound to happen,” Nico sighed. “Most of it was my fault. If I’d been honest with him from the start, we might not have had this problem. Better now than later, though. I guess.”

“Can you fix it?”

“I think so. The fact that he’s calling and wants to talk is a good sign.”

“I thought as much. He really seems like a good guy.”

Nico was silent for a while. Then, “I don’t deserve him.”

Percy felt those words like a kick to the gut. “I’ve never seen you as happy as you are with him. You _do_ deserve him. So tell me about Dante. It’s kind of hard to pick someone’s brain when you don’t speak the same language.”

Nico narrowed his eyes at him. “Why would you want to pick his brain?”

“Because when I knocked on your door, he was the part of your new life that surprised me the most,” Percy said honestly, shrugging.

Nico snorted at that, still hesitating before choosing his words. “He’s . . . wonderful. Great sense of humor, doesn’t put up with shit, and he’s intensely loyal. He’s always conscious of how I’m feeling – knows how to deal with my moods and stuff.”

“Kudos to him. You’re a tough nut to crack on a good day, Nico di Angelo,” Percy teased lightly.

Nico rolled his eyes at him. “We had to learn how to do that. It wasn’t always easy.” He paused in thought, tapping his fingers in a rhythm against his knee. “We got into this . . . this really terrible fight one day. It was horrible. I didn’t know how to deal with it, so I shadow traveled to Rome for the night.” Nico swallowed thickly; Percy was fairly certain that this was not a story he liked to repeat often. “When I came back, he was calling the police. He and his family . . . they’d been out all night looking for me. Even after we fought and said these revolting things to each other . . . he went out looking.”

“I think that means he really likes you,” Percy said quietly. The last sentence - that had cut him unexpectedly deep. Following his own verbal sparring with Nico, Percy hadn’t gone out to look for him that much. He’d helped check the forest and kept an ear out for any sightings, but he’d been too stressed and preoccupied to stay out all night. That was just the tip of the iceberg of his failing Nico though – that much he was sure of. Then Percy cursed inwardly; this wasn’t about him, and he couldn’t make it about him. He’d made that mistake before. “He cares about you, and is very protective of you.”

“It’s a good feeling,” Nico said, clearing his throat. “I haven’t had someone be that protective or caring in years.”

Was he digging at him on purpose? It was a knee jerk reaction, and while he was relatively sure that Nico wasn’t saying things pointedly at him Percy couldn’t help but wonder if his behavior had left a mark like that on his friend. Still, something in Nico’s tone struck him, and a little light bulb flashed in his mind. “You really – you love him,” he stated bluntly, staring at Nico with fresh eyes.

Nico flailed as he twisted back to look at him, his pallor draining in shock. “I – what?” he stammered.

“You really love him, don’t you?”

Nico flushed deeply, redness extending all the way down his neck. “What makes you say that?” he asked, voice hollow and quaking. “I haven’t said anything to anyone.”

“I’ve never seen anyone make you smile like that,” Percy said.

And just like that, Percy watched the smile unfurl on his face. He was still pale and looked panicked, and the smile was uneasy and tentative, but it was there. “See, like that! I’ve never seen you do that. He makes you so happy – my brain might be full of seaweed but I’m not a total idiot, you know,” Percy chided Nico, shoving his shoulder. “I know what love can make you do.” When Nico froze, Percy winced inwardly. What had he done now?

0o0

Nico stilled at that sentence, wondering briefly if Percy had figured out his feelings from before from the wording of that sentence, but the levity behind it made him second-guess himself. Percy was talking about Annabeth – how they drove each other crazy with worry, how they lit up around each other, secretive smiles pulling at their mouths like they were communicating in their own silent, private language. He learned from watching Percy (which he would never, even under pain of excruciating death, admit) how love affected people: it could make them reckless, obsessed with the other person’s health and wellbeing, but it could also smooth that person out when they were incredibly happy. That particular, floaty look on Percy had been frustrating to no end when they were teenagers.

Was Nico happy with Dante?

He didn’t even have to sort through the huge array of memories he carried of the other man and their nearly two years of friendly and romantic companionship before his mind supplied ‘unequivocally.’

It wasn’t something they really spoke about at length though – here and there they would check in with each other just to make sure they were both happy with how things were – but Nico didn’t think of himself as being overly romantic or even prone to sharing his feelings. Usually he let Dante know what he was feeling through his actions, since he found emotions difficult to communicate through words. He’d grown up simultaneously wanting to hide how he felt and hoping that his actions spoke louder in the silence. Just the thought of voicing those feelings aloud made something in his chest clench uncomfortably, like he was swallowing a stone.

Then again, what did he have to lose by telling Percy now, when it seemed like he already knew and understood what he was going through? What did he gain by shutting him out again, when Percy was clearly open and happy for him and his newfound happiness?

“Yeah,” he murmured, the sound strangled but still audible despite his towering anxiety. “Yeah, I think I do.

“We don’t really talk about it,” he said by way of explanation a moment later, clearing his throat. “I’m not really big on talking about what I’m feeling, so it can be hard. But I think he knows. I hope he knows,” Nico trailed off, fidgeting with his skull ring.

“I think he does,” Percy said easily. “But they always like hearing it, you know. Even if it is an unspoken thing. I’m happy for you, man.”

Nico gave him a brief smile before disengaging from Percy. He wasn’t used to discussing his feelings with someone outside of Dante, and he wasn’t sure how to handle this with Percy. He was happy, yes, but having Percy reinforce that when he was wholly separated from Dante just made his chest ache even more.

All of this talk of feelings with Percy made him nervous. It hadn’t been his goal to form emotional bonds with Percy on this quest. He simply wasn’t interested in dragging out past insults and demons in order improve their nonexistent relationship. Nico had long since put that part of his life – the part that had him pining after a false image of the kind of hero Percy was. There was no doubt in his mind that Percy really was a hero, but by the time he arrived in New York with the Athena Parthenos, Percy Jackson was no longer _his_ hero.

Now that he was thinking about it, Nico desperately hoped that Percy wasn’t going to use this quest as a way to repair the fractured friendship. Percy had more important things to worry about than a stale alliance that meant little since Nico renounced their world and went to live on his own terms.

He didn’t want to talk about his feelings with Percy. There were dragons and unnecessary revelations down that path. Nico had made the firm decision years ago that Percy would never know about his feelings for him, and that was a promise Nico couldn’t break. If he broke it, he feared that all his resolve would crumble under the weight of his adolescent terrors. He could handle this without developing attachments, he knew Percy was never going to be more than his casual friend. There was too much at stake right now for them to be focusing on that.

Nico had agreed to help Percy out of an old loyalty, one that he didn’t think he’d ever be rid of, among other things. Percy clearly hadn’t wanted to ask him for help; he claimed it was out of respect for Nico’s decision to leave their world behind and his desire for privacy. Though he knew Percy to be an easy liar, Hazel had backed up his words: Percy had adamantly not wanted to disturb him.

If he could make it through this with his dignity intact, that would really be swell, Nico thought.

0o0

Of course, Nico felt like he should have known that traveling and working with Percy was far more trouble than it was worth. The last time he’s spent any significant amount of time with Percy, they’d parted ways feeling angry, distraught, and betrayed. That had also been their second trip to the Underworld together, wherein Percy had reacted rather violently to Nico’s admittedly _stupid_ play for his father’s approval – Percy had actually _tried to suffocate him_ he was so angry, and Nico felt his quiet but fervent affection for the son of Poseidon go out with the breath in his lungs.

Things had changed since then obviously – they’d saved each other’s lives when the other was in danger, and despite all of his efforts to prove the contrary Nico couldn’t help but hunker down with the other demigods at Camp Half Blood to protect the site from the Roman legion and the monsters bearing down on both.

Now though, despite the fact that Nico was actively working to help Percy locate and save Annabeth, they’d fallen back into old patterns of behavior. Percy, stressed from the journey and worried sick over his wife, was starting to show his agitation. Nico, stressed just from being around Percy but also worried about his culture-shocked boyfriend, tried to find ways to avoid the son of Poseidon so he didn’t tear his hair out.

It wasn’t that Percy was a bad person per se – he was just pretty much oblivious to everything else that was going on around him that didn’t involve the people he believed were directly most important to him. Annabeth would always be his primary concern, Nico knew that, so he tried to convince himself that he shouldn’t feel hurt that Percy didn’t care as much about him. When he was younger, he tried to prove himself more. It had been his goal for a while to earn Percy’s respect and trust one way or the other; unfortunately that became an almost impossible task so long as Percy was determined not to trust him.

Meeting him again at the Doors of Death had been overwhelmingly awkward; Nico felt nauseous and anxious just remembering everything that had happened before he and Reyna left, between Percy’s stilted attempts at friendliness and his far, far too late apology. That had been the last time they interacted for more than a passing moment, before Nico outright rejected his attempts and refused to acknowledge what he was trying to say.

In the years that followed, Nico had often wondered what might have happened if he’d simply allowed himself to accept Percy’s apology. He’d wanted to desperately, hearing the hurt in Percy’s voice, but by that point he’d made up his mind: he didn’t need Percy’s friendship, and he didn’t need to wait for his false apologies, either.

He felt like something had begun to change between them, though. Despite his firm promises to himself he was starting to allow Percy in, allowing him to talk a little about his relationship with Dante, had shifted something within their relationship. Percy certainly seemed a little bit more comfortable around him, enough to comment on his love life. He wasn’t sure he totally appreciated that kind of attention from the other man, despite his past feelings for him.

He didn’t want to _bond_ with Percy. That was the last thing he wanted. Making a friend of the other man was bound to end up in disappointment and heartbreak when Percy decided to discard him (which was likely inevitable) after Annabeth was recovered. The thought of being tugged into a forced hug between the couple was just about as much as he could bear without the old feelings (long buried and rusty, but still sharp enough to hurt) being unearthed like the bones he could command through the dirt. It would be the kind of false happiness he’d rejected when he was younger.

0o0

When left to his thoughts, Percy always tried to bring up images of Annabeth and Galen to keep himself calm. He missed them both terribly, and while he knew Galen was safe and happily ensconced in Hazel’s care, he couldn’t say the same about Annabeth. He’d been imagining that one day she’d just pop out from around the corner, having beaten the shit out of her captor. That never happened, no matter how much he hoped for it.

Percy wondered what she would say to his reunion with Nico. She’d been sad and disappointed upon learning of his abrupt departure from Camp Half-Blood, but had flat-out nixed Percy’s suggestions that they follow him to the Underworld. She’d been adamant that they give him the space he needed, and that Percy not hunt him down that way. Neither of them were the most empathetic of people, but Percy liked to think that at least between the two of them Annabeth had a better grasp on how to handle emotional situations. He meanwhile was left floundering and second-guessing himself and his behavior around Nico. How did he act around the young man Nico had become? He’d never really been very good at that – or of seeing people’s boundaries.

It was a difficult line to find. Nico clearly appreciated the space he was given while on this journey, and while at first he’d been close-lipped and shy he’d slowly started to come out of his shell. He was sharing more of himself with Percy, more than he’d ever learned about the younger demigod than when they were allies.

Maybe that was the problem – they’d pushed each other to the fringes of what would even be considered friendship due to their emotions and mistrust of each other far too early, and had never learned what the other was really like.

Nico himself was still an enigma who allowed small clues about himself to be revealed as he chose. Those small facets only gave Percy a brief impression of the young man Nico had grown up to be, but perhaps the most interesting one of all those was Dante. Percy had been shocked to learn that his roommate was actually his boyfriend of several months.

Nico being in a relationship with another man wasn’t really what shocked him. Sure, it had been surprising given his assumption (clearly an incorrect one) that Nico preferred girls, but he’d shrugged that shock off pretty quickly. He had grown up in New York City, and his mother had taught him to be nothing but tolerant of other people’s lifestyles. No, it had been that Nico himself had developed what was clearly such a strong emotional bond with another person after being a loner all of his life. He rejected his connections to both camps, which had told Percy all he needed to know about Nico’s emotional state.

But then seeing Nico so content, even happy, in his apartment with Dante . . . Percy could only be happy that Nico had found someone who made him smile. His curiosity about the other man notwithstanding, Percy really didn’t _mean_ to eavesdrop on Nico’s Iris Message with his boyfriend. Honestly, gods-honest truth, that had not been the plan when he set out to get some water. He stumbled across a small copse of trees, and caught a glimpse of Nico, curled up among the roots of a huge Redwood, talking animatedly with the shimmering form of Dante. The other man looked like he was sprawled on his stomach, resting his chin on his hands in midair as they conversed. Nico was dominating the conversation at the moment, telling a story or explaining something in fluent Italian, the vowels flowing easily over his tongue in a way that Percy had never heard in English. It made sense, he guessed, that he would be far more comfortable speaking in his mother tongue than the second one.

It probably also helped that he was sure Percy wouldn’t be able to understand him even if he did listen in.

Even so, Percy was astounded by how open he was with the other man. His body language was loud, like he hadn’t seen since he was eleven; it was a far cry from the rather subdued movements he used when he was with Percy. He looked . . . happy. Like he enjoyed talking and sharing his thoughts with someone who would listen.

And it was pretty obvious to Percy that Dante was that person. Clearly Dante meant a great deal to Nico. He offered an unguarded ear and the emotional support Percy knew Nico had been sorely lacking since Bianca’s death. He remembered vividly the eleven year old boy who’d talked his ear off about a card game, flailing his hands in his excitement. After so many years of dealing with a closed-off, unresponsive Nico, Percy felt something in his heart clench uncomfortably. Still, he was happy that he’d found someone to bring that out in him again.

They looked good together, he decided. Maybe they brought balance to each other’s lives the way Annabeth had for him, and had found a way to make their relationship click – Nico hadn’t been specific, but Percy knew he was keeping his feelings close to the vest around him, the way he always had.

He shoved down a twinge of jealousy; Nico didn’t owe him that at all.

Their conversation got quieter all of a sudden – more intimate and personal. Percy abruptly felt like he was intruding on their privacy. He blushed as his mind ventured towards the things they could be talking about in such hushed tones, and Percy’s feet took him away quickly. A few minutes later he found himself back at their now empty, quiet camp, and settled himself against the base of a large redwood, fidgeting restlessly as he listened to the sounds of the forest around him. He missed Annabeth desperately, and worried over her even more as the weeks she’d been missing grew in number. It had been more than four weeks since her kidnapping, and their progress still stymied him. Supposedly they were going in the right direction, but with each passing day Percy had to work harder and harder to keep himself from falling into despair and despondency.

Rather than let himself do that, he steeled himself and called Hazel to check in on Galen. It was fairly late, and she was getting ready to put him down for bed – but when he saw Percy through the message he cried out and nearly tore himself out of Hazel’s arms reaching for him. Hazel gave Percy a withering look as he struggled in her arms but it faded after a moment when she seemed to realize that he was having a hard time coping being away. He kept the message going for a little while until Hazel gave him another look, and Percy had to physically drag himself away as Galen started babbling “dada, dada” tiredly.

When Nico returned a few moments later, his cheeks flushed slightly and a sly smile on his face, it quickly fell when he saw Percy.

The son of Hades sat down beside him, close enough to touch but still leaving a bit of space between them. Tentatively, he put his hand on Percy’s arm; it was just a gentle touch, reassuring him that he was there and offering him a bit of physical comfort. “We’ll find her, Percy.”

After a few minutes Percy cleared his throat, shrugging minutely. “We need to get moving again.”

 


	10. Part 2 Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next morning found Nico and Percy hiking through a mountain valley, close to Mount Othrys. They’d managed a quick breakfast, but otherwise Percy had set a practically maniacal pace to get them closer to their destination. As they climbed another ambitious hill, Nico frowned and placed a hand on his abdomen as his stomach growled and grumbled ferociously. He hadn’t experienced this feeling in a very long time – at least, he remembered it from the night he spent in Rome after fighting with Dante. 
> 
> “You sound like you need a whole pizza to yourself,” Percy supplied helpfully, wiping sweat from his forehead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting closer and closer to 100k . . . And all the bro-bonding in this chapter was rather cathartic, so I hope you guys enjoy it?
> 
> I've been writing and posting a few prompt fics over at my tumblr http://darthvair-65.tumblr.com/ so feel free to drop by and read drabbles with Dante and Nico being cute and cuddly!

Chapter 8

The next morning found Nico and Percy hiking through a mountain valley, close to Mount Othrys. They’d managed a quick breakfast, but otherwise Percy had set a practically maniacal pace to get them closer to their destination. As they climbed another ambitious hill, Nico frowned and placed a hand on his abdomen as his stomach growled and grumbled ferociously. He hadn’t experienced this feeling in a very long time – at least, he remembered it from the night he spent in Rome after fighting with Dante.

“You sound like you need a whole pizza to yourself,” Percy supplied helpfully, wiping sweat from his forehead.

“I am pretty hungry I guess,” Nico frowned. “It’s weird.”

“What’s weird about it? I was hungry all the time when I was a teenager.”

“I’m not a teenager anymore, Percy,” he reminded him.

“You’re twenty-one though – I’ve seen guys half your size put away whole pizzas and a bucket of wings, only to be hungry an hour later.”

Nico grimaced and retched mockingly. “I guess I just haven’t really felt it in a while,” he muttered, mentally berating his rebellious stomach.

Percy was quiet for a few moments as he thought about Nico’s response. “Dante took pretty good care of you, huh? For you to forget being hungry, I mean.”

Nico’s first reaction would have been defensive, to claim that he didn’t need someone to take care of him – but that hadn’t exactly been the case, he reminded himself. Dante and his family _had_ taken him under their wing and provided him with the first steady meals and familial affection he’d had in years. Protesting that he didn’t need someone to take care of him would have negated everything that they’d done for him.  “Do you remember what it was like for me? Before?”

Percy fidgeted, adjusting his backpack across his shoulders. “The first time you r-left? I know you were living off Happy Meals for the most part.”

Nico narrowed his eyes at Percy. “I never told anyone that.”

Percy rubbed the back of his neck. “You were in a dream I had. I saw you using some of the Happy Meal to try and summon Bianca. I remember that, and I remember how you were after Tartarus. You couldn’t eat much.”

Still glaring at Percy, Nico nodded. “I didn’t have anything stable, where I knew what I was going to eat for each meal. When I moved to Venice, that didn’t really change until I became friends with Dante. Before we started dating, when we were just friends, he would still cook for me. His mother and grandmother cook constantly. It’s a miracle I didn’t gain a ton, I’ve been eating so much. Sometimes I think my body can sense that it was undernourished for so long so everything I eat just gets sucked away and disappears.”

“They’re the kind of family that shows their love through cooking, aren’t they?”

Nico hummed and nodded.

“Do you mind if I ask you some things?”

Nico paused before answering. Usually he wasn’t too keen on telling people the details of his relationship with Dante, because he considered everything that went on between them to be private – and definitely not anyone else’s business. Keeping his feelings and the little, intimate things between them to himself was a way to protect Dante, to protect himself. But Percy, he was beginning to realize, had no designs to hurt him. He seemed genuinely interested and above all happy for Nico, which certainly made him feel better about his situation with his boyfriend. He’d already shared some details about their relationship, so he decided to open up a little bit more.

“I guess,” he answered simply. “As long as the questions aren’t too invasive.”

 “I’ve been thinking,” Percy said after a few moments, picking his nails nervously, “and I want to acknowledge that I really . . . ugh. I really screwed up with us, didn’t I?”

Nico’s gaze snapped to him quickly, his eyes narrowing at subject. He wondered where on earth this was going. “You kind of did. I’m over it though – honestly.”

“I know you are, you said so, but it pisses me off that I was such an asshole.”

Some very secretive part of Nico was crowing; how long had he wanted Percy to recognize what he was doing? How long had he wished for even a small portion of Percy’s empathy? Yet the statement felt empty. Nico wouldn’t get any satisfaction over forcing Percy to kick himself over his actions as a teenager. “You can apologize if you want.”

“Would it make you hate me less?”

“Stop fishing.”

Percy huffed. “Would it help us, I don’t know, start over?”

“I’m going to blow your mind here, Percy. I don’t want to start over. I want to move on. We’re adults. The best thing you can do with your realization is to apply what you’ve learned to how you treat me today. Can you do that?”

Looking somewhat cowed, Percy nodded. “Can I ask you another question?”

“Not if it has anything to do with the last topic.”

“No, it’s about Dante.”

Nico immediately felt his body tense up. “What about him?”

“I was just wondering . . . why you never told him about the demigod thing.”

“We’ve already covered this. I was trying to protect him. Obviously, it was kind of a flawed plan.”

“I think you guys will fix it. He really does seem like a great guy.”

Nico was getting tired. “I don’t know what will happen, and neither do you.”

“Yeah, well, even when he was pissed, he was still very protective of you. It takes a lot to do that when you’re trying to be mad at someone.”

“Dante’s like that. He knows that there are things I don’t like, experiences I’d rather not have, so he tries to get some of the pressure off me to explain myself. Right now, I think he’s kind of weirded out that he’s spent the last two years being protective and all that, when in reality I’m the last person who needs protection.”

“Everyone needs protection sometimes.”

Nico allowed himself a light smile. “Maybe.”

“Listen, how about I make breakfast tomorrow. Let me do this for you.”

“You really don’t have to,” Nico hedged, thinking about Percy’s unappetizing attempts at soup and other dinners.

“But I want to,” Percy continued doggedly, and Nico didn’t really know how else to try and deter him without completely insulting him. They’d made enough progress though that Nico really didn’t want to do that and take them a step or two backwards.

The rest of the day was spent keeping their heads down around a slumbering chimera, before they hunkered down for another couple of hours for rest. Nico took the first watch, then Percy woke him up around three in the morning to rest himself. When he woke up again, it was to the smell of burning meat, which made him wrinkle his nose.

The plate Percy put in front of him didn’t look appetizing at all. There was a yellow and brown blob that might’ve been eggs, and two blackened logs that could have been sausage, but otherwise it was totally unrecognizable. He stared, frowning even though he was trying to mask his disgust. It wasn’t Percy’s fault that he couldn’t cook; it wasn’t Percy’s fault that Nico had spent the better part of the last two years hanging out with a fantastic and extravagant cook – and the last eight months _dating_ said cook, so it really wasn’t Percy’s fault that Nico had developed high expectations for his food.

“Wow, if looks could kill,” Percy muttered.

“What is it?” Nico asked, attempting to school his expression into one of interest and appreciation.

“Scrambled eggs. I kind of burned them a little so I threw some spices in there to mask the burned taste.”

“Ah. That’s . . . that sounds great.”

“Keep your enthusiasm to a minimum, di Angelo. Sorry, but not all of us can be cute Italian cooks with sexy bedroom eyes.”

Nico sputtered, fumbling with his plate in shock at Percy’s words.

“Don’t be coy with me,” Percy teased. “I’ve known you since you were this high, it’s not going to work. I could see the perks right from the start – you get fed all the delicious food you can stuff into your stomach _and_ you get the sexy Italian guy making moon eyes at you!”

“Shut up!” Nico shouted, thoroughly scandalized. “It’s not like that at all!”

Percy leveled him with a glare that clearly stated ‘I can see right through you.’

“Ok, so maybe it’s a little like that,” Nico amended, rolling his eyes.

“He takes good care of you,” Percy noted, shoveling a forkful of the egg-like substance into his mouth before grimacing. He forced himself to chew, then swallowed thickly with a shudder. “Which I am apparently unable to do. Ick, I’m sorry. This is why Annabeth only lets me toast bread at home. I am the bread toaster, not the meal cooker.”

“You don’t _have_ to take care of me, you know,” Nico said quietly, mumbling around a mouthful of tough sausage. “I am an adult, I can take care of myself.”

“You were always taking care of yourself though,” Percy muttered after a moment, making Nico freeze and stare at him through his unruly fringe. “I should have been better.”

Nico blinked at him, unsure of what to say to that. At the time, he couldn’t understand why it was so difficult for Percy to take a step back and understand where Nico was coming from – he remembered raging in the privacy of his own space in the Underworld, screaming out his frustration because Percy just couldn’t see how his treatment was affecting him, when he cared about him so much. Now, though? The sickening feeling of rejection and misunderstandings had long since dissipated for the most part, though being with Percy again had triggered some of those feelings again.

Largely though, he felt like they were ok, or at least moving towards being ok with one another. They still bickered, but that was normal and Nico kind of enjoyed that part of their relationship. And now that they were together, he’d come to the conclusion that he’d missed Percy while he was gone – even though Nico had been the one to cut off contact completely. He’d missed the son of Poseidon, and while their mission was not one that was necessarily enjoyable or happy, they were actually getting along for the first time in a long while – maybe since the whole Underworld debacle.

“Maybe we both could have been?” Nico suggested, shrugging his shoulders. “In case you’ve forgotten, I wasn’t exactly the most communicative teenager.”

Percy snorted, his gaze drifting off in memory, probably. “No, but when you did, it was pretty damn clear what you were trying to say. I just had trouble translating what that was.”

“Doing the whole roundabout blaming thing really isn’t going to get us anywhere fast, you know,” Nico glanced over and met Percy’s gaze for the first time. “I didn’t know how to express my thoughts or emotions. You were stubborn and didn’t trust me after, well. Everything. But that was when we were teenagers – do you think we can be adults about this?”

“You were a teenager until fairly recently, remember?” Percy teased.

“I’ve had to be my own adult since Bianca . . . joined the Hunters,” Nico tried to point out, but his voice faltered before he spoke about Bianca’s death. He no longer blamed Percy for her death, and he knew that it had been a childish response to force the guilt on an already guilt-ridden Percy. Later, he realized just how childish it was to place the blame on him – Bianca had made her decision, and it wasn’t fair for him to place all his betrayal and distress on Percy’s shoulders. Nico had let that go, but their misunderstandings and feelings of betrayal only continued. Percy held onto his grudge against him for the disaster that was their sojourn to the Underworld prior to the Battle of Manhattan, despite Nico’s every effort in the aftermath to prove himself a worthy ally. He knew about the whispers passed amongst the Seven and other demigods about him being untrustworthy and prone to manipulations; that had been the most frustrating and shocking thing to discover, and Nico could vividly remember the sickening drop in his stomach when he realized how they saw him.

Nico cleared his throat and tried again, ignoring the wide-eyed stare Percy was giving him. “I lived on my own for a while before I met Dante, you know. Got myself set up in Venice in my mother’s old apartment, took enough classes and exams to finish secondary school, and got myself into the local university. All by myself. I can manage.”

“There was never a question about that, man,” Percy said, shaking his head. “It’s more . . . I promised Bianca I’d look after you. And at first, yeah, I promised and that was the biggest thing about it, but after a little bit you became the little brother I didn’t know I wanted. I wanted to keep you safe, even though – let’s face it – I sucked at keeping people protected.”

“Much as I appreciate the sentiment, Percy, there’s not much we can do to change what happened. There’s nothing for you to make up for, or anything.”

He could tell Percy disagreed, but they left it at that for the time being. He didn’t feel comfortable with where Percy’s line of conversation was going; Nico thought he’d managed to put all of that behind him, and the last thing he wanted was to dredge up those old, heartbroken emotions that didn’t help either of them in their current situation. Maybe Percy saw this as a chance to redeem himself, but Nico really didn’t want to do that right now. They were adults; they could go about this just fine.

Nico amended that thought when several creatures burst through the trees with ear-piercing shrieks, cursing to himself. _We’ll have to try the whole ‘adult’ thing again after these damn harpies are dust._

0o0

Fresh from a day of sparring with Reyna, Dante headed back to the apartment he’d been staying at and, without even bothering to clean up, made his offering to Iris as he had for the last week. Nearly all the gold coins Hazel had given him were spent, either from talking with Nico or conversing with his parents. Since he was overseas and ‘on vacation’ Mama wanted him to check in to make sure he hadn’t gotten into trouble with American police or locals. Much as he disliked lying, he knew that it was the better option – even if he did get reamed over the ‘phone’ for not telling her about his ‘vacation’ with Nico. It was getting easier to talk to Nico as well, though now he wished his boyfriend were close by so they could speak more freely. Still, for the time being this would do. The air in front of him shimmered, and an image took form that made Dante’s heart freeze in his chest.

Nico looked like he was sleeping fitfully, his eyebrows drawn down and a frown set in his mouth, but his face was spattered with blood. There were cuts across his nose, cheek, and ear, and it looked as though he had several other wounds that he couldn’t see based on the blood caked to his shirt.

Then, outside of the image, Dante clearly heard Percy say something; to his great relief, Nico snorted and opened his eyes, giving him a little smile in greeting.

 _“What did he say?”_ Dante asked, his eyes raking over every nick and fleck of blood on his boyfriend’s skin. He’d found that the medallion didn’t work translating through Iris, which was a bit of an annoyance.

 _“That you’re calling at a bad time,”_ Nico said, his voice hoarse and low.

_“What the hell happened?”_

_“Harpies, ugh,”_ Nico groaned, making a face as Percy – still mostly out of the picture – pressed a wet cloth to some of his smaller injuries while Nico’s skin sizzled.

_“Harpies. Really.”_

_“Really,”_ Nico confirmed. _“Did Reyna beat you up again today?”_

Dante was momentarily distracted by Nico’s rapidly healing skin; Percy pulled the cloth away and the skin around the wound seemed to knit itself back together at an inhuman rate. His ear and neck were unblemished now. _“Uh. Yeah, you can tell, huh?”_

 _“Do you ever remind her that you’re human, and not a demigod?”_ Nico demanded.

 _“I promise I do. She thinks I’m getting better though – she even mentioned me participating in the war games,_ ” he smirked knowingly.

“Don’t you dare!” Nico shouted in English, before correcting himself and repeating the words in Italian. Percy looked alarmed, even more so when Nico turned to him and explained why he was shouting. Then Percy leaned in with wide eyes and a panicked look on his face. “Don’t do it, man,” he said clearly. “I hope you’re just joking.”

Dante couldn’t help but laugh at the two of them. He’d learned, he really had, not to engage in those violent games. Just watching was absolutely terrifying.

 _“It’s like you’ve forgotten that I used to be a real daredevil,”_ Dante teased, mostly just to bait Nico. It was his favorite sport now, as that was the only way he could really distract Nico from terrible things, especially from afar.

 _“Oh, I haven’t forgotten. I just don’t want anyone mistaking ‘daredevil’ for ‘suicidal,’”_ Nico mumbled, running his hands over the newly healed, smooth skin of his arm.

 _“I’m not participating in the war games,”_ Dante reassured him. _“I’m just watching from the sidelines. It’s hard for me to picture you here, participating in them.”_

 _“Oh – I never fought in the war games. I never joined the Legion.”_ Nico paused and spoke in aside to Percy, who suddenly pushed himself into the frame and said something Dante didn’t understand. He hated that the medallion didn’t work on long distance.

 _“What did he say?”_ he asked after Nico had pushed Percy away.

_“I told him you were talking about the war games, and Percy said that Reyna definitely wouldn’t let me do it now because I have an unfair amount of experience.”_

_“What does that mean?”_

_“I, uh. I led my first army into battle when I was thirteen. I’m used to leading, not being a soldier, and I couldn’t usurp Reyna.”_

Dante didn’t really have any words he could use to respond to that statement, so he just nodded silently. The things he was learning about Nico now that he was in his boyfriend’s world were sometimes shocking – ok, a lot of the time they were shocking – he really was glad that Nico was trying to be as honest with him as he could now that the secret of his past was in the open. He knew Nico still worried about overwhelming him with information and bombshells, but Dante decided that he definitely preferred Nico being honest and allowing him to learn these things about him. Nico knew nearly all of his dark secrets, and he was glad that Nico was starting to open up to him.

 _“That isn’t putting you off, is it?”_ Nico asked nervously.

Dante thought about it for a moment. Then he shrugged, letting his own worries go a little bit more. _“Some teenagers spend their adolescence trying to get their crush’s attention. Some teenagers lead armies.” I guess,_ he almost added.

 _“Some of us do both at the same time,”_ Nico pointed out, snorting to himself.

 _“That is true,”_ Dante agreed. _“You truly had a strange adolescence.”_

Nico shrugged. _“It wasn’t really that strange_ ,” he said sheepishly. _“I’m sure other people have led far more interesting lives.”_

 _“I sincerely doubt that,”_ Dante countered.

Nico raised his eyebrow and shrugged again in response.

 _“Maybe you could tell me about it sometime?”_ Dante suggested hesitantly. Maybe that should have been a sign that he really did want this to continue; no longer did Dante feel left out when he heard new details about Nico’s life before he moved to Venice. Now that he’d started to learn more about this strange, new world, Dante wanted to learn as much as he could about Nico’s role in it.

Nico seemed to see that too, and smiled cautiously in return. _“I could do that, if you want.”_

_“I would like that.”_

0o0

When they reached the foot of the mountain, something changed in the atmosphere. It was enough to throw both Percy and Nico off and send them into high alert. It was mid summer, an odd time for thick fog to be descending through the thick forest at the base of Mount Othrys. They’d barely slept the night before, on alert from the fog and the loud sounds of animals in the woods that seemed to be circling; now as the day continued into the early afternoon, the fog had yet to clear and the animal noises had been silenced completely.

Percy was starting to think that there was definitely something tracking them.

It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility, that was for sure. The journey they’d been on had been relatively quiet thus far, aside from the random encounters with various monsters that were quickly dispatched. It was a far cry from the quests Percy remembered going on as a teenager, wherein his every move was met with resistance and strife. Whoever was holding Annabeth didn’t seem to mind them making headway, even if they were headed in the right direction. He didn’t think being hunted by a monster would really be a huge deal for them – he and Nico figured out that they were a pretty formidable team when they really started working together, so he was absolutely sure they could handle whatever came after them.

Still, the whole stalking thing was starting to really get on his nerves. He could _hear_ the son of a bitch moving just loudly enough to keep his attention shifting.

“I hear something,” Percy whispered after searching for the source of a twig snapping just out of his line of sight. Nico shifted closer to his side, gaze searching their perimeter avidly.

“We need to keep moving,” Nico argued, grabbing Percy’s arm and tugging.

“Nico, there’s something out there,” Percy insisted, wrenching his arm from Nico’s grip. Whatever it was, it was raising the hair on the back of his neck – and he felt the innate _wrongness_ of whatever it was in the pit of his stomach, and it pulled him in like a magnet set in his abdomen. He needed to find whatever was giving off this sort of darkness and destroy it – but what he didn’t understand at all was why Nico couldn’t feel it too. “I have a really bad feeling. We need to kill it.”

Nico, however, stayed rooted to his spot, stock still and shaking his head. “No. Percy, something’s wrong – _don’t_ -“

“Just stay here,” Percy hissed viciously, uncapping Riptide so it extended to its full length. “I’ll take care of it.”

Ignoring Nico’s shouts about something – the fog or something, whatever that was about – Percy stalked into the thick forest in search of whatever was giving off this stench of darkness.

Percy felt lost in the fog of his mind, searching for the source of strange sounds coming from seemingly every corner of the forest. He followed blindly, rushing around and through bushes to startle the thing from its hiding spot.

Suddenly, Percy blinked and the fog cleared from his mind. He looked around, abruptly very confused by where he was and what he was doing in the middle of the deep woods. The sun was beginning to set, which meant that he had been gone for far longer than the half hour Percy initially thought he had been. Why hadn’t Nico come after him complaining about his behavior? Had he simply moved on in his search? He’d been searching for something, noises drawing him deeper and deeper into the forest, but that gut feeling that something was stalking him was no longer there. Percy suddenly felt completely and utterly alone.

“Nico?” he shouted, worry settling in the pit of his stomach. When there was no answer, Percy started making his way through the woods; after a few false starts where he ended up in more unfamiliar areas, he finally found the path that he and Nico had been using. The whole time Percy had been calling Nico’s name, hoping for a response or an answering scream of ‘Percy!’, but nothing came. He continued calling for him, fear now clenching his lungs and heart, as he moved along the path until he reached the last place that looked familiar to him. Nico had pointed out that a bit of moss on a tree looked like a skull.

Nico was nowhere to be found.

Percy bellowed his name two more times at the top of his lungs, the sound echoing in the trees – but there was no answer. Nico simply wasn’t there anymore.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry not sorry //hides in the pile of happy cuddle prompts//


	11. Part 2 Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It didn’t feel right at all; something was incredibly wrong – Nico wouldn’t have just left him, not after everything they’d gone through and worked towards. It just didn’t feel right, that Nico would have left him in the woods after he bolted, chasing a shadow and an imagined threat. The Nico he had come to know would have gone after him, would have searched high and low until he could drag Percy back to their prescribed path kicking and screaming.

Chapter 9

It didn’t feel right at all; something was incredibly wrong –Nico _wouldn_ _’_ _t_ have just left him, not after everything they’d gone through and worked towards. It just didn’t feel right, that Nico would have left him in the woods after he bolted, chasing a shadow and an imagined threat. The Nico he had come to know would have gone after him, would have searched high and low until he could drag Percy back to their prescribed path kicking and screaming.

Percy’s fears were affirmed when he started looking around the area for any signs of the son of Hades –the remnants of a camp, a misplaced sock, _anything_ –and he found more than he hoped for. The contents of Nico’s backpack and the backpack itself were strewn across the forest floor in an apparent violent struggle; branches had been dislodged, and several trees had gouges in them from a particularly vicious sword swing. The ground was clearly unsettled, with sharp rocks jutting from the soil in a clear pattern –something had been coming straight for Nico, it seemed, and he tried to halt its progress with well-placed projectiles. Blood on the sharp points of the rock indicated that some had met their mark, but not enough to slow it –them –down. Most of Nico’s ambrosia supply had been smashed and destroyed, along with a well-guarded bottle of nectar, which left their healing materials down to the bare minimum. Clothes and supplies were scattered, which Percy gathered up and repacked in Nico’s bag.

Worst of all was the discovery of Nico’s sword, Reaper, which he rarely ever let out of his grasp. Its scabbard was nowhere to be found, which meant that it was probably still on Nico’s person –and that he’d drawn Reaper before the fighting began. He picked up the Stygian Iron blade gingerly, as the metal thrummed uncomfortably in his hand; not meant to be wielded by a child of Poseidon or any other god, having been forged for Nico’s hand to channel his powers. It felt wrong in Percy’s possession, giving him a feeling of foreboding that he often associated with the God of Death giving him an evil look.

Percy swallowed thickly, trying to process his thoughts and figure out what his next step would be. First, he cleaned off the blade and wrapped it in a spare pair of jeans Nico had brought, then fit it into the backpack. He cleaned up the rest of the supplies, salvaging what he could of the ambrosia (not much) and the nectar (almost two ounces, which he carefully added to his half-finished bottle). Then Percy slung Nico’s bag over his shoulder along with his own, and focused all of his energy on reading the landscape clues to figure out what had happened. He reexamined the area where most of the destruction was centered, and just tried to let the landscape tell the story. Reading the clues was harder than he thought it might be, given that he wasn’t really an experienced tracker or hunter, but whoever Nico had fought with hadn’t really seen fit to reset the space, which meant that Percy could pick out Nico’s sneaker prints fairly easily in the moist dirt. The soles of Converse sneakers were pretty distinctive.

He followed the damage out further from the path, where the ground broke and several skeletons had broken through the surface of the dirt, but only halfway. It appeared that they had paused and collapsed before fully escaping from their subterranean prison. Nico hadn’t been able to finish his summoning of them.

“Shit, Nico,”Percy breathed as a cold, nauseating sensation gripped his chest. He had to find him, and fast.

After a bit of searching, Percy managed to summon two nerids who had witnessed Nico’s abduction from afar and who sent him along a rugged path halfway up the mountainside.

Later that evening, as Percy trudged through a stream that the river sprites had promised they’d seen Nico’s attacker traveling along, an Iris Message came through and Percy’s day got even worse –which he didn’t think was possible.

It was a harried-looking Reyna.

“ _Di immortales_ , Reyna –really?”

“Why can’t Dante get in touch with Nico, Percy?”Reyna spoke over him. “He said he’s been trying for hours, but the calls don’t go through.”

When Percy realized he didn’t know how to answer, he put his hand over his eyes, massaging the temples.

“Where is he? He should be with you,”Reyna said, her hard voice wavering with worry once she saw him put his head in his hands. “What is happening, Percy?”

“I think he got kidnapped,”Percy hissed, scowling. “We, we got separated and I can tell there was a fight. I’m tracking them now.”

Reyna glared at him. “Find him. Dante’s been worried sick, and now I will be until I hear you have him back.”

“I’m worried sick too, you know,”Percy shot back. “I should have been there to help him out, but we just. We ended up in different directions. I’ll get him back, and once I do, I’ll have him call Dante. Ok?”

“You do that.”

“What are you going to tell him?”Percy asked.

“Something less alarming than what you just said,”Reyna answered brusquely. “Call as soon as you both are safe, you got that?”

“I promise.”

He ended the call just as Dante started demanding answers from Reyna with a sick feeling in his stomach.

If there was one thing Percy was grateful for, it was that Nico never backed down from a fight, even when he didn’t have an advantage. He’d followed the stream at the behest of the river spirits, which was littered with dislodged rocks and debris that spoke of fighting. Despite having been taken hostage, Nico had continued to put up a valiant fight. The trail continued until he came to the mouth of a small, cramped cave hidden by a rocky outcrop; at the mouth of the cave Percy found his first piece of evidence that Nico was definitely deeper in the cave: bloody stripes, likely from tearing fingernails as they tried to grip the cave wall, painted the outside of the rock. It was a dull brown now, and when he touched the stone with the tips of his fingers the blood was totally dry.

Percy’s heart began to thunder in his chest; he’d hoped that somewhere along the trail he’d discover that Nico had managed to escape his attacker, which clearly was not the case. To make matters worse, whoever had taken him had forcibly dragged him into this small space made rage bubble in his stomach.

Steeling himself, Percy made his way through the cave –Riptide held out in front of him cautiously as he picked his way across sharp, jagged rocks and slimy pools of stale water.

Percy didn’t like what he found: Nico was curled tightly in a corner of the cave, very pale, and appeared to be trembling where he sat, curled in on himself with his arms wrapped tightly around his shins. His back and shoulders were shuddering with each breath, like he was fighting valiantly against overwhelming panic that threatened to consume him. He didn’t respond to the light Percy shined on him from the flashlight, and he didn’t respond to Percy calling his name, even when Percy got closer and was practically shouting.

Percy caught himself, realizing that that behavior wasn’t likely to help Nico feel any safer or less fearful. He felt Nico’s terror and panic seep through his skin as he tried to figure out why Nico wasn’t responding to him; had whoever he’d fought with done something to him? Could he no longer see or hear? Why was he curled up like that? Percy carefully approached, but Nico made no sound or motion that indicated that he realized that Percy was even there. Inches away from Nico’s torn and muddied Converse, Percy slowly knelt down so he could see Nico’s face: it was a sickly pale, greenish color that spoke of nausea and fear, and his eyes were squeezed tightly shut. The knuckles on his hands were stark white with tension as they twisted in the fabric of his jeans, and the tips of his fingers were bloody, the fingernails ripped and ruined from his fight at the mouth of the cave.

Percy reached out and gently tapped Nico’s forearm, just a light touch so the younger man could back away without being overwhelmed if he needed to. Against all of Percy’s hopes, Nico still didn’t respond – he simply continued to tremble in his seat, his fingers clenched behind his neck as he rocked back and forth.

“Come on Nico, wake up,” Percy hissed, grabbing Nico’s arm to shake him. That had the opposite effect Percy hoped for, as Nico shouted and wrenched violently out of his grasp, scooting further away from Percy. The movement knocked the flashlight from Percy’s hand, sending it clattering against the rock wall. “Shit,” he cursed, following the wayward light. Once he had it in his hands, he turned the light back towards Nico, who was looking at him warily.

Percy was struck suddenly, by how much he recognized that expression. In the months following their sojourn in Tartarus, Percy had woken Annabeth up from panicked nightmares on enough occasions that he began to immediately recognize the wide-eyed fear, the quick staccato of her heartbeat, and the trembling of her hands as she tried to regain control of her mind and body. He also knew that she could immediately recognize those characteristics in him as well, so attuned to each other as they were. Now he could see that as plain as day on Nico’s face, and he decided to change his tactics.

“Hey – hey, buddy,” Percy said softly, slowly. “You’re alright. We’re gonna get you out of here.”

He moved in slowly so as not to spook Nico, settling beside the other man – he was careful not to touch him this time, but Percy made sure he was sitting within reach without being threatening. After a few minutes, Percy reached out and tentatively put his hand on Nico’s arm. The younger man jolted at his touch, watching him from the corner of his eye.

Sometime later, Nico loosened his hold, and Percy felt his heart leap in his chest – Nico must have finally woken up from his spell, must have finally heard him. But Nico continued to ignore Percy’s presence and began searching his own pockets for something. He frowned at first, not finding what he wanted, then his expression gradually became more and more panicked and horrified as the moments ticket by. He was muttering and cursing in Italian, before putting his head in his hands and letting out a dry sob.

A tiny light went off in Percy’s brain; suddenly he understood with alarming clarity what was happening to Nico.

He thought he was trapped, and had been ransacking his pockets for the pomegranate seeds that would keep him alive even in the most dire of situations – the same seeds that Percy salvaged, that were in Nico’s pack with him now.

 _Shit_ , the functioning part of Percy’s brain supplied.

Percy found his mind wandering back to that week six years ago, after his memories of Camp Half-Blood and his Grecian demigod family returned and they set out to rescue Nico and hunt down the Mark of Athena – of the dreams he had wherein he witnessed Nico’s slow asphyxiation and decline while trapped inside a sealed bronze jar, of the growing undercurrent of anxiety and stress he’d felt as time drew too close for his liking, of the heart-stopping panic he’d felt when the near-lifeless form of his friend tumbled out of his prison, of Nico’s shattered gaze and frail body in the aftermath of his rescue.

This was eerily close to that experience; he'd come almost too late that time, past the point where Nico was still conscious - but he felt just as far away and isolated from his friend that time. Nico was still shaking, now curled up with his head propped in his trembling hands. He was muttering a little louder under his breath, half in Italian and half in barely recognizable English. His hands flailing, Percy bit his lip and leaned in closer, hoping to catch bits and pieces of what he was saying. It was difficult to hear or understand him, but after a few tense moments Percy figured out what he was saying, and it made his stomach clench uncomfortably.

"Get me out, please let me out," he whispered harshly. Nico lapsed into Italian after that, but Percy was able to recognize his name among those of their friends as he begged for help from any of them.

"I'm trying, man," Percy hissed. He really only had experience with helping Annabeth conquer her flashbacks, and he wasn’t sure how to apply those practices to Nico. They were totally different people who’d experienced totally different things, and despite their common trauma Nico had also been subjected to the slow asphyxiation of a bronze jar following his escape. The traumatic experiences of Tartarus combined with the claustrophobic near death experience likely made Nico’s hell even more horrifying.

At a loss for anything else he could do, Percy dislodged Nico’s hands from behind his neck and clasped them gently but firmly in his own. They were tense and stiff and cold, so Percy started rubbing their hands together to try and warm them up. Then he quietly began to talk.

He told Nico about his life in New York with Annabeth and Galen, about going to school and living outside the world of demigods for the first time in years. He talked about his job working at the aquarium, about talking with giant sea turtles that had lived for over a century and getting into philosophical discussions with them. Percy talked about getting married to Annabeth, how Percy had hoped to try and mend things with Nico beforehand because he felt like it was something he needed to do; he talked about Galen’s birth, and how Annabeth was trying to teach him Ancient Greek, Latin, and Spanish early on. He went on and on about any topic that came to mind, feeling the tension slowly seep from Nico’s fingers and hands as he went as his heartbeat began to normalize.

He realized after a while that Nico had stopped talking and was instead taking in deep gasps of air, slower and slower. Percy looked up to find his friend staring at him - like he could actually see him. "Percy?" He whispered, his voice tremulous and quiet.

"Yeah, I'm here. You with me now?"

Nico nodded, taking deep breaths through his nose now. Percy continued rubbing his arm, no longer sure whether he was solely comforting Nico anymore.

“Are you hurt?” Percy asked, discreetly checking him over for any wounds he hadn’t noticed before.

Nico shook his head. “My hands,” he mumbled, turning his hands and examining the bloody fingertips.

Percy winced as he glanced down at the abused digits. “Alright, let’s go get those taken care of. Ready to get the hell out of here?”

Then Nico did something that Percy wasn’t expecting in the slightest: he threw himself forward and wrapped his arms tightly around Percy's neck. He nearly toppled backwards, but after a moment of stunned surprise Percy tentatively returned the embrace, resting his palms gently against Nico’s shoulder and back. He'd never held Nico like this - he'd never been permitted to, not after Percy had betrayed his trust and not after winning the battles against Kronos and Gaea. He always gave off clear and unmistakable vibes of ‘don’t touch me’ and ‘touch me and die painfully,’ so Percy had long since given up on the idea of ever hugging him. Nico had abhorred the idea of Percy or anyone touching him in the months after Tartarus, and prior to that Nico hated him. Percy could remember wanting to hug Nico on numerous occasions: after Bianca had died, after rescuing him from the jar...but now, he supposed, he wanted to make up for his failure there.

"You came, you really came."

Percy's heart broke. "Yeah, yeah, I'm here. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I've got you now."

Nico shuddered. He was gripping Percy's arms tightly, his fingers digging into the flesh of his biceps.

"You're alright. I've got you. I'm sorry, Nico."

It took them a lot longer than Percy thought it would to get out of the cave. The panic attack Nico had been fighting off had left him weak in the knees and short of breath, leaving Percy to half carry the younger man out of the space. For once Percy was grateful that no monsters came at them despite the fact that he would have happily torn something to shreds over Nico’s treatment. Instead, when they broke free of the cave Percy settled Nico against a tree and set up barrier stones Hazel had given them, creating a defensive perimeter. He figured that taking the extra precaution would allow them to relax a bit more in the aftermath of a supremely awful day.

Percy pulled a blanket out of Nico’s bag and wrapped it around his shoulders before building a fire to give them a bit of light before the sky darkened. Once the fire was burning brighter, Percy took out the remaining small bottle of nectar and allowed Nico two small sips to get the healing started on his fingers. The younger man had calmed significantly, and appeared ecstatic to be breathing fresh air once more.

“What was that back there?” Percy asked tentatively. “Was it a spell, or a curse or something?”

“An illusion,” Nico answered a few moments later, his voice quiet and brittle. “At least part of it was.”

Percy studied Nico for several long seconds. “And the other part?”

Nico set his jaw, breathing deeply through his nose. “I hate dark, cramped spaces.”

“The jar?” Percy guessed quietly.

Nico nodded tightly. “I thought I was going to-“ he cut himself off before he could say the words.

Percy remembered the sickening fear that they’d come too late, that Nico was too far gone to be rescued. He remembered that fear all too clearly. “Being in that place brought you back to it,” he said instead.

“It was like I’d never left,” he murmured, picking the dried blood from his now-healed fingers.

“You should call Dante.”

“What?” Nico blurted, the panicked look creeping back into his eyes.

“He was calling looking for you earlier,” Percy said hastily, angry at himself for forgetting. “He was really worried when he couldn’t get you. You should call. I’ll keep an eye on the perimeter so you guys can talk.”

Nico grabbed his wrist before he could walk away, his grip firm but gentle. “Thanks,” he said after a moment, squeezing Percy’s wrist.

Percy offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Call your boyfriend, di Angelo. He’s worried sick about you.”

0o0

For once, Percy was totally right.

 _“Oh my God,_ _”_ Dante breathed the second his face appeared in the cloud. Nico was suddenly struck with the memory of Dante pacing in their kitchen, running his hands through his hair agitatedly while he was on the phone with the police, trying to report him missing. Unable to find him or get in touch, Dante had assumed the worst. He looked haggard and worried, but overwhelmingly relieved at the sight of Nico sitting before him again. _“You_ _’re ok._ _”_

Nico sighed, allowing the timbre and tone of Dante’s voice to calm him. _“I_ _’m alright._ _”_

 _“You don_ _’t look it,_ _”_ Dante said pointedly. _“You look like you do . . . when you_ _’ve had a panic attack._ _”_

 _“You_ _’re not wrong. But I promise I_ _’m ok. Better,_ _”_ Nico amended. _“Out of the woods and all._ _”_

_“What happened?_ _”_

Nico faltered. _“I don_ _’t want you to worry any more than you already have._ _”_

_“Then tell me what_ _’s going on in your head._ _”_

Nico talked, skirting around the events of the day for the most part at first; as he got more comfortable though, details and pieces started to come out. Dante’s frown deepened as he continued, but he didn’t push for more information than Nico was willing to share – but this was the one person Nico always knew he could share his secrets with, the one person who kept his secrets and confidences, so in the end he told him. The words came out in a rush: his fear at being separated from Percy and being attacked, the desperation of fighting for all he was worth even after he’d been taken down once, and the consuming panic when he realized he was being dragged towards a small, dark cave. Dante knew about his claustrophobia, knew vaguely what had caused it, and had comforted him through the once persistent nightmares that experience caused.

 _“And I miss you,_ _”_ Nico breathed. _“I really wish you were here, because I don_ _’t think I_ _’m going to be able to sleep tonight._ _”_

 _“I miss you too,_ _”_ he heard Dante whisper.

 _“Are you doing ok?_ _”_ Nico asked before he could let himself get choked up. _“Are the people in Camp Jupiter treating you alright?_ _”_

_“Yeah. Yeah, they_ _’re ok. There are some really good people here. They like you a lot._ _”_

Nico huffed a laugh, because he really wasn’t sure he believed him. Reyna and Hazel liked him; the rest merely tolerated his presence.

 _“Is Percy feeding you?_ _”_ Dante asked abruptly, making Nico start. He blinked at his boyfriend’s stern expression, complete with furrowed brows that made Nico think of Groucho Marx.

Nico thought back to Percy’s disastrous attempts at eggs and sausage a few days beforehand. _“He does his best,_ _”_ he said diplomatically. _“I end up cooking more, I think._ _”_

 _“Lucky Percy,_ _”_ Dante teased, _“you never cook for me._ _”_

Nico felt his dark mood dissipate as Dante goaded him into a welcome distraction. _“You never let me! I_ _’m not allowed in the kitchen, remember? You_ _’re the chef extraordinaire between the two of us._ _”_

_“I was raised to woo with my cooking._ _”_

_“And you successfully wooed me,_ _”_ Nico smiled softly, the one that was made solely for Dante. Then he cleared his throat. _“I can_ _’t imitate your cooking out here, but I do my best. At least I don_ _’t burn the food like Percy does. It . . . reminds me of you._ _”_

Dante was quiet for a few moments, and Nico was content to let the mood settle. _“Maybe you can cook for me when you get back,_ _”_ Dante suggested tentatively.

_“You sure about that? I_ _’m pretty terrible._ _”_

_“I could teach you?_ _”_

Nico blinked at him as warmth filled his chest cavity. _“Really?_ _”_

_“Yeah. Then Mama can bring you in to help for Sunday dinners._ _”_

_“I_ _’d like that,_ _”_ he said quietly, grinning widely now. At the mention of Dante’s mother however, he felt worry clench at his heart. _“Have you talked with Mama?_ _”_

Dante looked tense at first. _“She was worried. There were reports of an earthquake, I guess. But Piper_ _– she_ _’s your friend too, right?_ _– somehow managed to convince her that you planned a surprise vacation now that your semester was over. She told my boss the same thing, but . . . he still fired me._ _”_ This Dante admitted in barely a whisper, looking down and picking at his fingers. Nico felt stricken, because Dante had always been proud of that job, of working in a highly regarded restaurant, and Nico had destroyed that source of pride.

_“Dante . . . I_ _’m so, so sorry._ _”_

_“It_ _’s ok. It_ _’s fine,_ _”_ Dante said hastily, forcing calm into his voice. _“He was never going to let me in the kitchen anyway._ _”_

_“He was always a jackass. You_ _’re an amazing cook._ _”_

_“You have to say that. You_ _’re my boyfriend._ _”_

_“When have I ever said something_ _‘because I have to?_ _’”_ Nico said pointedly. _“You are that amazing. And I really am sorry. You lost your job because of me, and-_ _“_

 _“I didn_ _’t want to talk about this,_ _”_ Dante cut him off, waving his hand dismissively. _“I wanted to make sure you were alright. I was scared that something terrible had happened to you, and then when I saw you I knew something had, and I didn_ _’t want to make you feel worse._ _”_

 _“I am sorry,_ _”_ Nico insisted, because he needed Dante to know that. _“I wish I had something better to say. And I_ _’m sorry for scaring you._ _”_

 _“Can you stop apologizing?_ _”_ Dante grumbled.

 _“I_ _’ll try,_ _”_ Nico countered, sighing heavily. _“But I also need to thank you. For helping me take my mind off today._ _”_

_“Will it help?_ _”_

_“I don_ _’t feel like I_ _’m going to burst out of my skin from nerves anymore, so it_ _’s a step in the right direction. You always know what to do._ _”_

_“You_ _’re getting closer to finding Annabeth, aren_ _’t you?_ _”_ Dante surprised him with the question.

_“We_ _’re close, yeah._ _”_

_“Good. I want you home safely. I miss you a lot._ _”_

The words were like a swift punch to Nico’s stomach. He wanted to say something more in response, words that he’d kept tucked away out of fear for months now. Nearly every person Nico had loved had been ripped away from him, and the irrational fear that acknowledging his feelings for the other man would mean that he too would disappear kept him from speaking those words. He must not have kept them very secret though, because even Percy – who was admittedly fairly dense when it came to feelings – had parsed his emotions towards Dante out in the fairly short time they’d been travelling together.

 _“Soon,_ _”_ Nico croaked, words failing him once again. _“I_ _’ll be home soon._ _”_

They didn’t speak for a few moments, just taking each other in, before Dante told him he should try to get some rest. Reluctantly Nico said goodbye and ended the call, wiping his eyes clear of tears.

Talking with Dante had been good – really good, in fact. He no longer felt like the walls were closing in around him, or that he was suffocating himself with each breath. He knew he wasn’t trapped or in immediate danger, not anymore, and that settled his mind for a short while. Nico no longer felt like he was going to come apart at the seams at any moment, which was a relief. The nights Nico had awakened panicked and afraid, Dante’s presence acted as a balm to the itch under his skin.

Despite his boyfriend’s assistance, as the sun set and the time grew later the familiar anxiety began to return. He didn’t know how he was going to sleep without Dante’s assistance and comfort now that he’d become so used to it in the aftermath of his attacks. He had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

Just as Nico expected, that night he couldn't sleep. He tried, but he couldn't get the memory of being trapped, of screaming and crying for help out of his head. Percy was still keeping watch, sitting on a rock behind him, and he looked back at the son of Poseidon helplessly after a moment of intense waffling.

"Percy."

"Yeah?"

"I need your help."

"What's up, man? Still having trouble sleeping?"

Nico nodded, blushing as he tried to think of how to approach this. "After what happened today, it doesn’t seem like sleep is happening anytime soon." He tried to remind himself that this was normal, and that since Percy was his friend this might not be too crazy to ask.

"What would you like me to do?" Percy asked, hopping down from his perch. "Say the word and I'll do it."

"You mean that?"

"Yeah! I mean, anything within reason."

Nico snorted, scratching his arm nervously. He wondered why Percy sounded so eager to help. "What, you have limits?" he joked.

"Everyone's got limits," Percy shrugged. "What do you need me to do?"

Nico hedged; was he really going to ask Percy, of all people, to do this? He must've looked like he was starting to panic too, because Percy's expression softened.

"Hey," he said gently, coming down to sit beside Nico. "Tell me what you want me to do."

"Dante, he holds me," Nico said quietly, flushing with nerves and embarrassment. "If I have a nightmare, or I start to panic like this. He holds me until I fall asleep."

"You want me to hold you for a while?" Percy asked, and there wasn't a trace of disgust or denial in his voice. It was understanding, and maybe a little sadness. Nico had paused, waiting for him to phrase it like his suggestion was absurd, but it was asked simply, like all Nico had requested was for him to turn on a light or something.

"I'd rather not bother you to-"

"It's ok, I know. And you'd rather it be him, I get that."

"You don't mind?" Nico chewed on his lip, his heart thudding in his chest.

"Of course not. I do this for Annabeth, you know. Come here," he murmured, holding his arms out for Nico.

Tentatively Nico shifted closer, the surrealism of the situation dawning on him. Was he really going to have Percy do this? Was he really going to let him into such an intimate position, one that only Dante had occupied in the last few years? Furthermore, was he actually going to participate in this? Nico had gotten over his crush on Percy years ago, but that didn’t stop a tiny twinge in his chest that reminded him of his old feelings for the other demigod. Now, here he was, preparing to willingly allow Percy to touch him for an extended period of time, trusting him in a moment of vulnerability. "Don't tell anyone," he threatened ineffectually, moving so his back was against Percy's chest as he leaned back against him.

"My lips are sealed,” Percy said, and Nico could practically hear the smile on his face. He allowed Nico to settle himself against his chest, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket to create a more secure seat for Nico to use. Once Nico relaxed enough, Percy propped his chin on top of Nico’s head.

Nico felt himself relax as Percy's warmth transferred to him, settling his nerves and anxieties about the jar. Percy's breathing helped, lulling him into a more relaxed state. 

“You do this for Annabeth?”

Percy nodded, rocking Nico’s head as well. “Tartarus,” he said in explanation.

Nico knew all too well the horrors Tartarus still inflicted on his mind. “Me too,” he admitted. “I don’t think it’s something we’ll ever be free of.”

“It’s good to have someone, though. Someone who knows how to take care of you.”

Nico tilted his head down, forcing himself not to cry at all even as he thought of the nights spent with Dante holding him close, rubbing his back and whispering quiet words of comfort and reassurance. He wanted that so badly right now, wanted it more than anything – but Percy, for the time being, would do. If Percy realized he was crying, he didn’t say anything, and for that Nico was eternally grateful. They sat there, curled up together, listening to the sounds of the forest around them.

"I'm sorry," Percy said, a few minutes later, breaking the silence.

That surprised Nico. "what for?"

"I should have been there - to protect you. Both times. I'm sorry."

"You couldn't have done anything, Percy. Your hero complex is showing."

“Shouldn’t have left you behind,” he went on anyway.

“I’ll beat you up for it later,” Nico sighed, closing his eyes. Percy’s body really did provide a nice, comfortable cushion to sleep against. He briefly imagined himself, younger and still in awe of the son of Poseidon, and he wondered how he would have responded if he knew that one day he’d find himself in this position. The younger him probably would have blushed furiously until he was ready to spontaneously combust. Superbly happy that Percy no longer had that kind of hold on him, he allowed the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest gave Nico something to focus on, a lodestone to match until it lulled him into a doze.

All the comfort in the world still didn’t stop Nico from waking up screaming when he felt Annabeth’s soul pass through to the Underworld.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm headed to Puerto Rico (and on hiatus) on May 10, but I have plans to get the last three chapters posted before I leave :)


	12. Part 2 Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy refused to believe that Annabeth was dead. 
> 
> It simply wasn’t possible. She was fine; she was just being held captive somewhere deep in this mountain. The feeling Nico reported, that had him screaming and flailing in the middle of the night, was a trick – a cruel trick, one that he refused to accept because if he accepted that it was true, it meant that the woman he’d loved for nearly a decade – the love of his life and the mother of his child – was dead.
> 
> No. He couldn’t accept that as a possibility. If he even began to accept even the tiniest truth of it, he feared he would break down in grief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the added tags.

Chapter 10

Percy _refused_ to believe that Annabeth was dead.

It simply wasn’t possible. She was fine; she was just being held captive somewhere deep in this mountain. The feeling Nico reported, that had him screaming and flailing in the middle of the night, was a trick – a cruel trick, one that he refused to accept because if he accepted that it was true, it meant that the woman he’d loved for nearly a decade – the love of his life and the mother of his child – was dead.

No. He couldn’t accept that as a possibility. If he even began to accept even the tiniest truth of it, he feared he would break down in grief.

Nico was rubbing his reddened eyes behind him, still swollen and raw from before. When he finally calmed down enough to tell Percy what he’d felt through hiccupped sobs and tears, Percy had cut him off with a curt denial. Nico protested, thinking that Percy simply didn’t want to believe him, only to have his words cut off with an increasingly angry response. Eventually Nico stopped trying to tell him, and simply fell into step behind him once they set out. Percy couldn’t focus on Nico right now; he had to push on single-mindedly to find Annabeth before something happened to her.

On some level, Percy knew he wasn’t being fair to Nico. They’d made so much progress, and he’d finally started to see Nico for who he really was instead of how Percy remembered him. He respected the younger demigod now more than ever, and Nico trusted him enough to let him see the vulnerabilities he masked with sarcasm for so long. All this progress and camaraderie suddenly seemed to dissipate once Nico calmed down enough to explain what he’d felt.

Percy didn’t want to blame Nico for what he’d experienced. Nico had become his lifeline to Annabeth, as he could do something Percy could never master – dream walking. He’d seemed so sure that Annabeth’s captor wouldn’t harm her (because she’d been so sure, he had to remind himself), that when the words left his lips Percy had a hard time pushing down the feelings of betrayal and shock. He felt like Nico had misled him about the danger, and it was taking all of Percy’s hard won self control not to turn on him and leave Nico behind.

But what would that accomplish?

He was waging a war within his own mind, spurred on by fear and doubt that he was going to lose the one person who mattered the most to him. His own visceral response shocked him as well: in his less heated moments Percy would remember that Nico was someone he trusted and who trusted him. He didn’t understand how he could react this way – but maybe he hadn’t had enough time for that knowledge to ingrain itself in his mind. Meanwhile Nico bore his harsh words without contempt.

That tolerance didn’t last however, and things finally reached a boiling point when Percy made a (admittedly) unnecessarily caustic comment and Nico turned around to unleash hell on him. Darkness seemed to pull in towards them, with the pine trees surrounding them bending and creaking while the grass at their feet turned brown and Nico bellowed at him. His tone was harsher and more guttural than Percy expected, but it was the intense waves of anger and frustration that washed over him repeatedly that had him swallowing his words and taking several unconscious steps away from the younger demigod.

Nico tore into him verbally, reminding Percy that he was here to help and was just as worried about Annabeth as he was – that he felt awful for not being able to sense the danger, and he didn’t need Percy to remind him of his shortcomings.

Percy felt horrible after he was done, and not just chagrined by his own behavior. He felt sick to his stomach, shaken and cowed and grotesquely guilty for the way he treated Nico. He saw brief flashes of scenes in his head while Nico shouted, and it wasn’t until after, when they were walking again, that Percy began trying to puzzle them together. At first he hadn’t understood what he was seeing, but it eventually dawned on him that he was seeing some of Nico’s memories. Even then, he didn’t completely understand what was happening without some sort of context.

He recognized some of the scenes, like the one from Hades’ dungeon. Percy didn’t recall being so brutal in his response to Nico, but . . . there it was. Nico’s memory was clear and unclouded, and so were the emotions surrounding that particular memory: desperation and despair.

As they walked in silence following Nico’s blowup, Percy mentally picked through the memories, sorting them and trying to make sense of why they’d been pushed onto him.

“I’m sorry,” Percy said after a period, when they were taking a break from hiking. Nico hadn’t spared him a glance since he started walking with purpose over an hour ago. “For what I said. It was out of line.”

Nico sighed and took a sip from his water bottle to delay answering. “If we’re going to succeed, you need to remember first and foremost that I am not your enemy. I’ve never been your enemy. I want to help you,” he said quietly, and Percy wanted to smack himself. “I’m scared for Annabeth too, and I’m going to do everything in my power to get her back to you, Percy. But I can’t do that if you’re going to keep questioning me and my motives. You need to know that I’m on your side here.”

Percy nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I know you are. The stress is starting to get to me, I’m sorry.”

Then Nico did something Percy wasn’t expecting at all: he put his palm on Percy’s shoulder – just a light, comforting touch that settled a few of Percy’s nerves; it reminded him that he wasn’t alone, and wasn’t going to be facing this terrible unknown by himself. Nico, in spite of Percy’s mistreatment and mistrust, always came through in the end to help him out in any and every way he could. Physical comfort might not have been something he was usually prepared to offer, but he did so for Percy. He knew that was a lot for Nico to do – he didn’t like touching others or being touched, unless they were someone he trusted implicitly. He’d shrugged Percy off the first time he touched him on this adventure.

“We’re almost there. We need to keep moving,” he said, patting Percy’s shoulder.

Then he started walking ahead of Percy, so all he could do was stare at Nico’s receding back once again. Percy felt uncomfortable all of a sudden, his shoulder numb where Nico had touched it. He never would have been so forgiving, especially when he was younger. Percy had a long memory for betrayals and attitudes, and if someone turned on him the way he’d treated Nico, they would have a very difficult time getting back into his good graces. It amazed him that, after all this time, Nico had learned to be more forgiving than Percy had ever been willing to be. He followed him after a moment, still deep in thought.

Something else about their fight itched under his skin for a long while: the sudden waves of what he could only assume were Nico’s feelings. Were they really Nico’s feelings? And if so, how had he done that? Was it intentional? Was that really how he felt about the world and the people around him? It was a lot to take in and process, especially given how confused the thoughts were. Figuring out the puzzle that was Nico di Angelo was a good distraction from his distress over Annabeth. Eventually Percy figured it would be better to do something other than make assumptions about his friend. He began working out in his head how to phrase his question.

It took Percy a little while to gather up the courage, but eventually he asked the question that had been bugging him since their fight. “What was that? That thing, where you made me feel what you were feeling?”

Nico stumbled over a tree root once the question left his mouth. “Shit,” he hissed, and Percy wondered whether it was because he stubbed his foot or he worried Percy had seen something he didn’t want him to see. “I didn’t know that was happening. Sorry.”

“What was it?” Percy prompted again.

“Transference?” Nico guessed, shrugging. “I don’t really know what to call it. It doesn’t happen all the time, and most of the time I barely realize it’s happening. It’s . . . a high stress thing. All the pent-up emotions just . . . kind of explode,” he muttered, blushing slightly.

“Ah,” Percy uttered, accepting that explanation and returning to his quiet sorting of the scenes and emotions.

“Did you see a lot?” Nico asked, sounding nervous.

“No,” Percy said, shaking his head even as he saw himself fall into Tartarus through Nico’s eyes, and felt the wash of despair and heartbreak all over again. “Just some brief flashes, nothing major.”

Nico was still gazing at him critically as he continued walking, but he didn’t press for more information. Percy didn’t want to keep talking about it, especially when he didn’t fully understand what he was feeling. Thankfully the topic was dropped in favor of fighting a small group of monsters that tracked them down.

Later that night, as Percy kept the first watch, he finally realized the connection between all of the memories and feelings he’d experienced. All of those emotions – anger, disgust, fear, resentment, heartbreak and even . . . Percy didn’t want to assume, but love? – were how Nico felt about _him._

He felt paralyzed by this realization, and wondered if that was what Nico was trying to make sure stayed hidden from him.

If that really was the case, it changed _everything_ – more than Percy could possibly imagine. It changed the character and understanding of their interactions going back years and years. Percy couldn’t help but wonder if there was any truth to his thought process.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he never woke Nico up to take his watch.

0o0

Perhaps, Nico thought, they’d been kidding themselves. The quest thus far had not been nearly as difficult or dangerous as previous quests. He wasn’t really sure what exactly they were expecting, but finding Annabeth’s body was one of the worst experiences he’d ever had.

They found her the next day, sprawled on the floor of a cave that already had Nico’s skin crawling.

Percy went into shock quickly, and Nico wasn’t sure if that was a blessing or a curse. He collapsed beside her and gingerly pulled her limp body into his arms and cradled her against his chest, rocking back and forth as he stared at her blank expression. Nico stared, horrified at the scene and Percy’s near silent mourning. He’d been so sure that he’d been mistaken or tricked by his own power – that the luck Percy always seemed to have in these situations would help them out a bit and they’d arrive before something happened to her . . . clearly they had overestimated their own abilities.

Percy near snarled when Nico knelt beside him – too close, invading his personal mourning space, but he had to _make sure_. He couldn’t help but feel like something was off, something about the whole situation wasn’t right. Nico looked down at Annabeth’s pale face, so familiar but stretched a little with age and maturity. Yet the limpness in her limbs struck him as odd.

“Percy.”

“Leave me alone,” Percy growled, holding her body a little closer.

“No,” Nico insisted. “I need you to let her go. Something’s weird about this.”

Percy turned wild, red eyes on him, raw with tears that hadn’t been shed yet. “What are you talking about?”

“I felt her soul pass more than a day ago. If she was dead, really dead, she’d be . . . a little stiffer,” he said awkwardly, gesturing to her limp form, still cradled close to Percy’s body. There really wasn’t a good way to say that, after all.

Percy just stared at him, confused and probably a little weirded out by that.

“I’m the son of Hades, I know what death looks like,” Nico continued. “She should be cold and stiff, in one of the stages of rigor mortis.”

Percy shook his head, refusing to let her go.

“Percy, I think this means she’s not dead,” Nico said, trying to lean in to catch Percy’s gaze.

“You said you felt her soul,” the son of Poseidon responded hollowly.

“I did. Ok, I did – but I don’t think she’s really dead. Just . . . mostly dead. Slightly alive, enough I might be able to do something.”

“Mostly dead?” Percy muttered skeptically.

Nico hedged. “I think it’s a possibility.”

“You could bring her back?” Percy was staring at him now, with wide eyes.

“I think so. She’s not all dead, so theoretically all I have to do is find her soul and bring it back – and it should find her all on its own?” He hoped that his own educated guess turned out to be right. “I brought Hazel back. I should be able to retrieve a soul.”

Percy reached out, and grabbed Nico’s hand, squeezing it. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice breaking.

“Now we know why Rachel said I was the one who needed to go with you,” Nico said, squeezing his hand back before standing up. “I’ll bring her back. Just be patient.”

He shadow traveled back to Los Angeles, pausing outside the record shop to catch his breath and gather his strength again before heading into the store, waving to Charon as he headed down the staircase into the Underworld once more.

Once he was there though, Nico couldn’t find her. He searched every nook and cranny of the Underworld – the Fields of Asphodel, Elysium, the EZ Death line, even his father’s palace, but there was no Annabeth. He sent out hellhounds to the far corners of the Underworld to search for her soul, but every one of them returned with nothing. A sickly, sinking feeling rose in the pit of his stomach: something was wrong. He’d felt her soul enter the Underworld – that much he was sure of. However if she’d entered the Underworld, he should have been able to locate her soul. That should have been easy enough. But if she wasn’t here somewhere, that meant that she was either in Tartarus again, or still alive.

Something about all of this just wasn’t sitting right with Nico. He was beginning to question every thought now. Without any success, Nico decided he had to return and see if there were any clues that he missed.

Taking a deep breath, Nico pulled the shadows in from around himself, making a final push to join them back at Mount Othrys. He already felt exhausted from the first jump, and being in the Underworld didn’t fortify his strength like he wanted. He desperately hoped that there wouldn’t be monsters or battles to fight on his return, because all he wanted to do now was nap.

When he stumbled out of the shadows, the first thing Nico realized was that he was in a corridor deep within the mountain – nowhere near the spot he’d left Percy in. Still, somehow Percy managed to find him; he was too exhausted to question why Annabeth – whose soul should have returned to her body – wasn’t with him.

“Easy there,” Percy said, bending down and wrapping his arm around Nico’s back to support him. If he had the energy, he might have asked how Percy had found him, or if something had happened while he was gone, but Nico couldn’t bring himself to voice any of those concerns. “You feeling alright?”

“Shadow traveling is exhausting,” Nico muttered on an exhale. “You know that.”

Percy hummed in agreement, fitting his palm against Nico’s waist. Nico frowned at the touch, feeling like something was itching under his skin. He tried to squirm out of Percy’s grip, but nearly stumbled under his weakened knees before Percy grabbed him again.

“Relax, I’ve got you,” Percy said, his voice smooth and sweet like honey. Or molasses. His hand was back at Nico’s waist, rubbing up and down his flank.

Maybe he was concerned, Nico thought to himself, since he was both too exhausted and too unnerved to say something about Percy’s lack of boundaries. He’d been really good on this quest about physical contact since Nico laid the ground rules – not touching him without permission, keeping his touch light and comforting, keeping the boundaries Nico had described – but maybe in his concern Percy was neglecting those in favor of helping him out. He’d allowed Percy to hold him the other night – maybe he took that as a signal that things were different between them. Nico hadn’t minded at the time; he’d even enjoyed the physical comfort Percy was happy to offer, but that didn’t mean the other man got carte blanche to touch him carelessly whenever he wanted to. When he could muster up the energy to do so, he’d have to reset the rules.

They walked for a little bit until Nico started to recognize some of the scenery, and Percy sat him down on a rock in the same room where they’d found Annabeth. The strange twisting in Nico’s stomach returned, and he fought to wake himself up out of his shadow travel-induced exhaustion. Something felt very wrong about this.

“Where’s Annabeth?” he asked, casting around for any sign of her. “I couldn’t . . . she should be here.”

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Percy answered carelessly, plopping down on the rock beside him and once again leaning into Nico’s space.

Nico pushed his shoulder, trying to create some space between them. “Dude, space. And I seriously doubt that – her soul was pushed out of her body, you don’t just get up and run around after that.”

Pushing Percy away did absolutely nothing, because he just leaned back in after Nico pulled his hand back. “You worry too much.”

Something was definitely wrong. “Did something happen?” he asked, because he was starting to realize that Percy’s behavior was pretty bizarre. “You’re acting really weird.”

“Everything’s great,” Percy assured him, knocking their shoulders together, which made Nico wrinkle his nose. “I’ve got Annabeth back, so we can go home and never have to deal with each other again. See? Great.”

Nico felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. “Oh.” He’d thought . . . well, he must have thought wrong.

“What? I thought that was the whole plan.” Percy didn’t seem concerned, but the flippancy in his tone rankled Nico something fierce.

“Nothing. I just thought we were getting to a point where we could be friends,” Nico muttered, feeling emotionally as well as physically miserable.

Percy sucked in a long breath, and Nico felt the muscles in his body tense up. “Yeah, uh, here’s the thing. I’m really glad I have Annabeth back, and I’m really thankful-“

Nico couldn’t help but snort loudly at the absurdity of his words. Of course – once he’d gotten what he wanted, Percy was reverting back to his old, careless, asshole of a personality. Nico marveled that it took so long for that to happen.

“What, you think I’m not thankful? I could show you how thankful I am,” Percy said, leaning in, too close for Nico’s comfort.

“I think you should go now,” Nico said, shifting away from him on the rock. He worried that if Percy continued in this vein, he’d have to explain to Annabeth why her husband was in a bloody pulp. “Go find your wife, she’s probably looking for-“ he continued, only to have his words cut off by Percy’s mouth.

Nico’s eyes flew open at the sudden and invasive action, frozen on the spot in shock. He counted the seconds in his mind, numbly registering the feel of Percy’s hands squeezing his shoulders tightly – too tightly – and the feel of the kiss, too hard and too insistent, along with the force behind Percy’s hands, pushing him back towards the cave wall.

He’d imagined this years ago, though Nico never even admitted it out loud to himself. He’d been too embarrassed by his own feelings, his own imagination, to allow this particular day dream to come to light. He imagined finally getting the courage to take Percy aside and just tell him how he felt; he imagined, much to his chagrin, Percy leaning down and very gently pressing a kiss to his lips. Nico always imagined having his first kiss with Percy. This was nothing like he’d imagined.

Finally Nico broke out of the spell of shock tried to jerk away from him; Percy held on tightly, and his grip only faltered when Nico opened his mouth and bit the older demigod’s lip. Percy made an outraged sound as Nico’s mouth filled with the metallic copper tang of blood, and Percy shoved himself up and away, touching his torn and bloody lip and inspecting the damage.

Nico spit the blood out onto the ground between them, rubbing at the sore muscles in his shoulders from Percy’s strong grip.

“I was trying to do something nice for you,” Percy hissed, voice like acid. “You little shit.”

“You should go now,” Nico ground out, pushing himself up so he could lean against the rock wall. He tried gathering the darkness to create a protective wall, or to unleash his rage on the other man, but he still didn’t have the strength. He needed more time to recover from his last jump.

“You’d make me if you could,” Percy muttered in a teasing tone that Nico quickly decided he didn’t like. “But I really don’t think you could stop me.”

Nico narrowed his eyes at the other man, edging along the wall to put some more distance between them. He was fighting down wave after wave of terror, and it was taking all of his self control to keep his hands from shaking; he didn’t know how to confront this person, who was so unlike the Percy he’d come to know in the last two weeks. Nico didn’t want to believe that this was actually Percy he was dealing with, so he clung to the hope that this was an imposter – it was really the only way he could process what was happening in that moment. The problem was that he really wasn’t feeling his best: he couldn’t control the darkness saturating their environment because he was weak and couldn’t concentrate, so even his normal failsafe was proving ineffective. “I don’t need the darkness to kick your ass,” he said bravely, desperately hoping Percy didn’t push him further.

His bluff didn’t work; Percy’s expression darkened, and he moved back into Nico’s space again. “It’s not my ass you should be worrying about.”

Nico fought down the sudden urge to vomit and backed away from the man slowly advancing on him, fear twisting in his gut and making his heart thump wildly in his chest. “You will _not_ touch me,” he snarled.

“Oh come on – we could have so much fun. You’ve probably only ever fucked that boy of yours, but it’s my dick you fantasized about for years,” he said with a cruel smile.

It was like a slap to the face, waking him up and making Nico want to flee immediately. It wasn’t Percy, it couldn’t be – it looked like Percy, talked like Percy, even moved like him, but it wasn’t the son of Poseidon. Nico had spent too much time around him in the last few weeks to be fooled. The small sense of relief he felt on this realization was quickly squashed by confusion and second-guessing himself.

Percy wouldn’t behave like this towards him; Percy liked Dante, he knew how Nico felt about his boyfriend and how much he was looking forward to seeing the other man again. He supported Nico’s relationship with his boyfriend, and knew how much the relationship meant to him – he wouldn’t overstep those boundaries. Yet here was Percy – not Percy, though – advancing on him like a predator and making lewd comments about sex. It made Nico’s insides feel like ice, because at one time he had wanted Percy in that way; he’d spent too many nights touching himself to the thought of Percy and hating himself after to deny that.

It should have been in the past now – he didn’t think about Percy that way anymore, didn’t want him or fantasize about him at all. But in his presence, with him getting too close, it was like muscle memory, his body responding the way it had years before.

But Percy was caging him in, pressing close – too close, only Dante was allowed in his personal space like this – and forcing him back against the wall. Nico tried to push him away, but not-Percy grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his head. Then he pressed his hips right against Nico’s and rolled them , grinding their hips together. Nico choked back a sound as he tried to get a grip on himself.

“I know this is what you want,” not-Percy purred, dipping his head down to kiss him. Nico jerked his head, dodging his mouth and grimacing as he felt Percy’s lips and teeth land on his neck.

“It’s not,” Nico hissed. “Let me go, now,” he shouted in Percy’s face, trying to put some of the power he could feel gathering in his veins behind it.

“Denial isn’t cute,” Percy chuckled, but there was no warmth in the sound.

No, this wasn’t what he wanted – and this wasn’t Percy. Percy was many things, but malicious and sexually aggressive were not among them. Percy didn’t have any romantic of sexual interest in him – he loved Annabeth with his whole heart, and Nico knew that. Yet Nico couldn’t shake his own interest – it was buried deep, but still there, hiding out in the crevices of his heart now that he was . . . offering.

How many nights had he dreamed of Percy? Even if it wasn’t sexual, the number was too high to be ignored.

“It isn’t,” he ground out. “This isn’t what I want.”

“No?” not-Percy asked. “You never wanted him to push up against a wall, to feel his body pressed against yours, never wanted him to kiss you?” he asked, his voice softening even as a strong hand gripped his jaw and forced Nico to look the fake Percy in the face. Percy – no, this wasn’t him, it was a fake – leaned in close, his lips ghosting over Nico’s.

“I,” Nico faltered. He was so close, he could tilt his head an inch and kiss the man he’d once cared for desperately. “I didn’t say that. This isn’t what I want . . . now.”

“Your body says differently,” not-Percy grinned, and closed the distance between them with a harsh, empty kiss. There was no warmth in it at all, no feeling other than possession, and Nico was too stunned to respond. He’d thought about kissing Percy more than a few times, and had always wondered what it might have been like, but he had to really force himself to remember that _this wasn’t Percy_ , even if the thought process fought him tooth and nail. He had wanted this at one point, hadn’t he?

Suddenly he felt sharp teeth nip at his lip, and when he jerked away not-Percy moved on to his neck. The shift suddenly sent his heart into overdrive; he remembered in a rush laying in bed with Dante while his boyfriend teased his neck, following tendons with his lips and gently, always gently, kissing bruises right on this sensitive spot behind his ear. Nico felt his heart clench at the memory, and his lungs suddenly seemed to not be getting any oxygen. Not-Percy kept kissing his neck, and Nico felt himself start to panic.

 _You love someone else now_ , Nico heard himself think, _and it’s not Percy. Cut the crap, man._

“I care about someone else now,” Nico ground out, though not-Percy ignored him. “I love him, his name is Dante,” he said, though more to himself than this cheap imitation of Percy.

“Dante? That idiot?” not-Percy snorted derisively. “Please.” Then he bit down, hard, on the sensitive part of Nico’s neck; he couldn’t help the shudder that went through him after.

Nico couldn’t keep track of the emotions he felt after that: shame, disgust with himself, rage, fear, and despite all of those, pleasure.

“No one will ever make you happy like I can,” not-Percy purred, loosening his hold on Nico’s wrists ever so slightly.

“You are so wrong about that,” Nico hissed. “And I’m not fourteen anymore.” With strength he didn’t think he had left, Nico ripped his wrists out of the other man’s fierce grip and pushed him back a step, then lunged forward with a sharp knee to not-Percy’s groin. The imitation of his friend curled in on himself, gagging and groaning in pain, and Nico grabbed his head and brought it down against his kneecap. He felt the fake Percy’s nose shatter, and he staggered back, bleeding profusely.

“You’re going to regret that,” not-Percy snarled, his fingers coming away bloody after touching his face.

Nico was gasping for breath now, his hands clenched into shaking fists, ready to strike if he attacked again. “I don’t think so.” Then he unleashed an unholy scream, tendrils of darkness sweeping out around him and catching not-Percy in the chest, sending him flying back against the wall. Nico heard the sound of bone cracking against the stone, and briefly wondered if he’d ended it completely.

Instead the imposter groaned and got up, hissing in pain. “You will regret that, you’ll see. I’m not through with you idiots yet.” He backed up until the shadows swallowed him.

Nico blinked at the space where Percy had been, breathing harshly as he fought for control of his breathing and heart rate. With no one else to whisper comforting words, Nico closed his eyes and focused on the things he knew to be the truth. The real Percy, the one he’d been getting to know and getting more comfortable with, wouldn’t have done or said those things to him. He wouldn’t have tried to force himself on Nico, wouldn’t have made him feel degraded and disgusting. He would have backed off when Nico told him to. Nico loved Dante – missed him, couldn’t wait to feel the warmth of his arms around him once more, couldn’t wait to hear his voice and his laugh or the press of his lips to Nico’s forehead. He tried to recall the sensation and let it ground him, calming his heart until it no longer felt like it was going to burst through his chest.

 


	13. Part 2 Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When he felt well enough to start moving again, Nico picked his way down the corridor, watching for any more sudden movement that signaled another attack by an imposter. He vaguely remembered racing down some of these hallways as they searched for Annabeth, and he picked his way back towards the entrance to the tunnels. It was then that Nico saw two familiar figures just beyond the mouth of the cave, and he allowed himself to relax a bit.

Chapter 11

When he felt well enough to start moving again, Nico picked his way down the corridor, watching for any more sudden movement that signaled another attack by an imposter. He vaguely remembered racing down some of these hallways as they searched for Annabeth, and he picked his way back towards the entrance to the tunnels. It was then that Nico saw two familiar figures just beyond the mouth of the cave, and he allowed himself to relax a bit.

Percy was crouched beside Annabeth, giving her small sips of nectar, gently tipping her head back so she could drink. When he saw Nico’s movement out of the corner of his eye, Percy said something to her quietly and got up, his face splitting into a grin when he recognized Nico.

When he saw Percy – the real Percy, he hoped – start to walk towards him, Nico felt every muscle in his body lock up in residual tension.

The other man didn’t seem to notice. He appeared to be lost in happiness with Annabeth, who was very much alive and breathing much to Nico’s relief, leaning against a rocky outcrop, her upper body propped up by her dracon-bone sword. He was smiling and relaxed as he came in closer, which should have put Nico at ease. He raised his arm, reaching out to pat Nico on the shoulder, congratulatory words and thanks likely on his tongue, but in the last second Nico shied away from his touch, backing out of Percy’s immediate vicinity. His heart, which had calmed in the last half hour, pounded in his chest. Even if he was almost certain this was really Percy, he still felt incredibly uneasy and the thought of touching him now made him feel sick.

The other man frowned, his hand paused in midair. “Hey – what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Nico snapped, slowly circling out of Percy’s reach. He felt like he was being tugged around by strings, his body instinctively giving himself a barrier between himself and Percy. “Nothing.”

“Liar,” Percy said carefully, watching him closely.

“Cut it out, Percy,” Annabeth sighed. She spoke softly, and Nico was utterly relieved to hear her really speak after only being able to communicate with her through dreams. They‘d successfully rescued her. He’d done something good; he hadn’t fucked up completely. At least she was still alive.

Percy made to protest, but Nico slipped around him to kneel beside Annabeth. He took a deep, shuddering breath in hopes of calming himself down again, and when he looked up Annabeth was looking at him with wariness in her eyes. 

“Hey there, stranger,” she greeted him, an icy smile on her face as she leaned over to wrap him in a constricting hug. “It’s been a while.”

Nico felt nausea build in his stomach at the close contact and managed to wriggle out of her arms before he began to panic again. He looked at her strangely, noticing she was still smiling even after he pushed her away. “I tried to bring your soul back. I couldn’t find it.”

She looked confused for a moment before her expression settled. “I just needed a little push. You ok? You look a little pale. Do you have hives?” she asked, nodding towards the marks on his neck.

It was an innocent comment, and Nico wasn’t sure what to make of it. “I’m fine. I’m glad you’re ok,” he said, clearing his throat.

“I’ll be even better once we get out of here.”

Nico managed a small shrug. He hadn’t seen Annabeth in years, but he always remembered her as a warmer person who would have noticed his responses, but apparently she’d grown out of that.

“You look ready to go home.”

 _Yes_ , Nico wanted to say. “Somehow I don’t think whoever took you is done,” he said, voicing his fears. “This was almost too easy.”

0o0

Percy couldn’t help it, but the sudden change in Nico’s behavior angered him. They’d made so much progress, had come to really be friends – or at least he thought they had – and were finally beginning to understand each other, and Percy had finally let go of his long-held mistrust of him. They could talk without screaming at each other, and work together without much of an issue. Percy liked Nico – liked the camaraderie they’d built and the friendship they’d worked so hard to construct. Not more than a few days ago, Nico had allowed Percy to hold him when he was panicking.

Now Nico was keeping his distance, skirting Percy and avoiding interaction with him whenever possible. Something had happened, and it bothered Percy that Nico felt like he couldn’t – or shouldn’t – just tell him what had happened. When they stopped to rest about halfway down the mountain, Percy confronted Nico again, with less than stellar results.

He approached Nico when the younger demigod was getting ready to keep watch while Annabeth napped, asking him what was wrong.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Nico answered stiffly, visibly pulling his limbs closer to his body. “Now stop asking me and go be with your wife.”

Percy frowned. “You’re lying. I don’t know why, but I know something’s wrong.” Percy knew he was prying, that there were probably better and less intrusive ways to go about it, but he was worried; now that he was looking at Nico more closely he saw that he looked pale, Nico’s skin – particularly his neck – was covered with bruises and abrasions, and his lip looked bloody. Percy expected that he had to fight his way there, but this was the man who, as a thirteen-year old, had taken on masses of Kronos’ monstrous soldiers to protect his parents and other mortals – and had walked away unscathed. Something _had_ happened – and Nico had taken a beating in the process.

Nico took a deep, steadying breath before saying, “Leave me alone. This is the last time I’ll ask.”

Percy could see Nico shutting down and closing off, and that made him frantic. “No, no no, Nico, don’t do this. Don’t shut me out like this, we’ve come too far – we’re friends now-“ He reached for him, even as he thought to himself _Bad idea, you are so screwed now._

Nico jerked away wildly, snarling at Percy. “ _Don’t touch me,_ Percy!”

Percy withdrew, the words like a slap to the face. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-“

“Then _don’t_ ,” Nico hissed. “Back the hell off.”

“Ok,” Percy conceded, putting his hands up a little as he backed away. Nico didn’t turn or make any motion to continue their argument, so Percy went back and sat beside Annabeth, who was curled up in his sleeping bag resting – or at least she was supposed to be, though she was watching them with one shrewd grey eye. “You should be resting,” he admonished her gently when he sat down beside her, brushing a few strands of blonde hair out of her face.

“I can’t rest while I’m still in this place,” Annabeth said, betraying her well-hidden anxiety. He wondered what had happened there in that mountain; they still hadn’t located her kidnapper, and Percy intended to string the bastard up for what he’d done before they left. “I don’t think any of us can.” She cast a meaningful look at Nico’s back. “Are you two fighting?”

Percy combed his fingers through his hair agitatedly. “I don’t know. I know something’s wrong, but he won’t say what. He’s always been really private, but we’re friends now. We’ve been doing so well. We talk and everything now.”

“Sounds like he doesn’t really want to talk to you,” she said bluntly.

Percy huffed, breathing out through his nose; he was going to ignore her seeming lack of concern about their friend – for whom even she had displayed a great deal of worry for after his abrupt disappearance after Gaea. She’d been kidnapped, after all. “I’m just worried about him. I think something really bad happened between him bringing you back and us finding him again. He looks like he got in a fight.”

Annabeth started rubbing his arm before pulling him down to lay beside her, with his cheek pillowed against her shoulder. Percy closed his eyes and curled up to her, reveling in the solid reminder that she was alive and with him again, that they’d managed to keep the asshole who kidnapped her from killing her. It had been almost three months since Percy felt this sense of calm, and he just wanted to spend the rest of his life like this. The only thing missing was Galen, who he knew would fit snugly between them once they returned.

“This place,” Annabeth said quietly, “it messes with your head. It made me think of Tartarus, the way things could change and show you something you feared. The magic in this place is dark enough to choke someone.”

“You think he saw something?”

“I think he fought something he was afraid of. I think you should give him the space he asks for and let him talk to you when he’s ready.”

“What would I do without you, my Wise Girl?”

“Crash and burn,” Annabeth said bluntly, shrugging. It was a familiar set of words, but unaccompanied by her whip-sharp humor and a comforting touch it felt more like a slap to the face than a teasing remark.

0o0

Of course, he was right in the end: whoever had taken Annabeth was clearly not ready to let them go. The paths twisted and turned in a way that made Nico think of the Labyrinth, always changing and creating obstacles where previously the way had been clear. He was already anxious to get out and into the fresh air, away from the dark corridors that clearly made him nervous and twitchy, was becoming increasingly more frustrated with every wrong turn. Percy wasn’t any better, and it was hard not to snipe at him when Percy started getting testy and annoyed by their inability to escape.

Finally Annabeth shouted at them to stop, tugging on Percy and Nico’s sleeves until they obeyed, exchanging worried glances with each other.

“I need a breather,” she huffed, wrenching out of their arms and leaning against the wall.

“Percy, what does this remind you of?”

“The Labyrinth,” he answered automatically. After a moment, he swore. “This guy’s a witch. He’s using the Mist,” Percy hissed. “Ok, so what the hell? How do we escape?”

“We find the witch,” Nico said quietly.

“They could be anywhere,” the son of Poseidon guessed, grimacing.

Nico shook his head. The magic was too powerful to be enacted from a secluded spot. “They’re here with us.”

“Annabeth, we need to stick . . . together,” Percy trailed off as he turned around, staring at the spot on the wall where Annabeth had been not seconds before. He started looking around frantically, shouting her name, and Nico felt his own panic start to set in. How had she disappeared so quickly?

“Percy!” Nico snapped, grabbing his attention. “Stop it. The witch is here, they’re right here with us.”

“What took you so long?” a voice that sounded remarkably like Percy’s asked, off to the side where Nico was sure no one had been seconds before. It was far too like Percy’s voice, though the new one was icier and made Nico want to wretch.

The darkness shifted, and a tall figure emerged from them; Nico choked on his words, his body stiffening as it recalled a forceful, unforgiving grip and unwanted, bruising kisses. He heard Percy swear at his side as he realized what he was seeing, and the older man put his arm out to push Nico behind him.

“Nico, what is that?” Percy demanded. “Why is it wearing my face?”

Nico shook his head, swallowing thickly even though his throat didn’t want to move at all. “I don’t know.” Even though his whole body was seizing up in the memory of their encounter, he felt buoyed by Percy’s response; he might not really need Percy to defend him, but having the other man at his side made him feel ten times stronger.

“Why so shy, Nico?” the fake Percy drawled smoothly. “Are you really going to hide behind him like that?”

“He’s not hiding,” Percy snapped, shifting himself in front of Nico. Then, something very strange happened: parts of the room shimmered, like they were shifting before his very eyes, and before he could even register that this was the Mist the second Percy was advancing into his personal space while the real one sputtered on his other side, totally confused at the sudden change of position.

The fake Percy reached out and grabbed Nico’s wrist in a punishing grip, but he wrenched his wrist out and darted away from him snarling, “Don’t touch me!”

Percy wheeled around, once again putting himself between Nico and his doppelganger, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “Who are you? What did you do to Annabeth?!”

“I would have thought you might have been able to figure it out by now,” his doppelganger said snidely. “But I guess I overestimated you. You were never really the brightest bulb in the pack.”

“I don’t need to know who you are to kick your ass,” Percy retorted. “Where is my wife?”

The other Percy started to laugh, a low, dark chuckle. “You never learn, do you? You’ve been told before that not giving people a second thought once you’re done with them could be dangerous.”

Percy felt his lip curl; he could see exactly what he was trying to do – set him and Nico against each other after everything – and that combined with ignoring his question about Annabeth set him off.

“Are you really still going to side with this idiot?” the other Percy asked, tilting his head to look at Nico. “Even though you’re still afraid he’ll hurt you?”

Nico flinched, bringing Percy’s attention back to him. He felt a gentle touch on his shoulder, but he didn’t meet Percy’s gaze.

 “Is this what freaked you out earlier, Nico?” he asked, realization dawning bit by bit. “This guy – it’s what hurt you.”

“Ha!” the imposter laughed. “I did no such thing. I merely gave him a taste of what he truly desired.”

“And he probably gave you what you deserved – a punch to the face,” Percy said viciously, rounding on the doppelganger with a snarl on his face.

“He did try to bash my face in,” the fake Percy muttered contemplatively. “But like with all demigods, ambrosia does wonders.”

“Looks like a clean slate to me – fresh real estate.”

“You still don’t know who I am.” The other Percy was shaking his head now, like he was profoundly disappointed in them.

“Don’t know, and I really couldn’t care less,” Percy shot back flippantly. “But you’re certainly not me.”

“A son of Hecate,” Nico muttered behind Percy’s back. This demigod – if he really even was a demigod – could manipulate the Mist like Hazel, but his father had upheld his word to not have any more children; Nico had checked. There were only so many gods and goddesses who were associated with the magical arts, and with the amount of power this guy was flexing, he had to be directly descended from Hecate. He’d known some of the children of Hecate at Camp Half-Blood, and even amongst them he was considered an outcast. Several had left during the rise of Kronos to join his armies, leaving only one or two behind at camp.

“Lo and behold! His brain does work when he actually concentrates,” the imposter cheered snidely, making Nico blush. “You’re halfway there, so I’ll help you out.” Then the image before them changed, and Percy disappeared. The young man before them resembled Percy a bit, though his hair was lank and streaked with grey strands, and his watery green eyes were manic. Freckles stood out on his pale face, and his tall, thin body was wrapped in layers to imitate muscles. An Imperial Gold sword hung at his hip.

“Oh my Gods,” Percy breathed. “You? Seriously?”

“Me,” the other man said with a bloodthirsty grin.

“Wait,” Nico muttered, his eyes widening as he began to realize who this was.

“Alabaster Torrington,” Percy supplied. “He was the leader of the demigod faction in the Titan war. He was exiled years ago.”

“I remember,” Nico murmured. “Ethan Nakamura’s second in command. I remember fighting his army.”

“You ruined everything!” Alabaster bellowed, breaking his thin veneer of condescending ire for the moment. Nico jumped from behind Percy, gripping his arm tightly. “Kronos was going to lift us up, give power to the demigods forgotten by their parents and cast aside by the more popular gods. I would have thought at least you would have been sympathetic, Nico di Angelo.”

“Clearly you underestimated my loyalties,” Nico said waspishly.

“Skewed and misplaced as they are,” Alabaster countered acidly. “Percy Jackson’s loyal dog, always under foot trying to earn his approval.”

Nico turned red and opened his mouth to retort, but Percy responded first, raising Riptide and pointing it at Alabaster’s chest. “You don’t get to talk to him that way,” he snarled, overwhelmed by his desire to protect Nico from this asshole and put an end to the son of Hecate right then and there. He was absolutely sure that this man in front of them was the reason behind Nico’s sudden change of behavior, his sudden fear of Percy’s touch – and his suspicions were almost completely confirmed by the other man’s incredibly skeevey remarks. His first instinct was to punch Alabaster in the face.

“Well what do you know – you finally got what you wanted after all this time,” Alabaster said mockingly, laughing at Nico again. The sound of his voice was starting to grate on Percy’s nerves, and it just made him madder that this jackass was making fun of his friend. And with that, Percy was done. He wanted to go home and see his son; he wanted to curl up with Annabeth and not bother with the outside world for a long while; he wanted to sit and work things out with Nico, maybe give him a hug if he’d let him; but he really wanted to knock this asshole’s teeth out and kick him into the ground for all the stress he’d brought on him, Annabeth, and Nico for the last month.

So, done with listening to Alabaster talking, Percy charged.

It had been a while since Percy had fought in an all-out battle with a capable enemy. The last time he’d had to do that was against Gaea, and that time he’d had the assistance of six other demigods. This time he was fighting against another powerful demigod who had full mastery over the Mist and several other forms of magic, but he had Nico fighting alongside him. He was glad to have those two on his side against Alabaster.

For all of the son of Hecate’s power, he was losing strength fast. Percy couldn’t help but wonder how much energy and power he was expending trying to keep up with two powerful demigods against him. He enchanted monsters and animals, circling their area after sniffing out the scent of blood, to fight for him, which certainly threw them off here and there. Chimeras and Minotaurs, Percy was used to; cougars and grizzly bears? Not so much. He could tell Nico felt like he was at a disadvantage the moment Alabaster used the Mist to open the cavern up to the bright sunlight, minimizing the amount of shadows Nico could utilize in the fight.

It was in a moment of weakness, when Alabaster abruptly lost control of the cougar he was siccing on Nico, that he saw the other man tilt like he was going to faint. Percy saw that as an opening, and took it without a second thought. He barreled into Alabaster, knocking him to the ground and pinning him there.

“It’s over,” he said, readjusting his grip as Alabaster struggled weakly. “We’re done here. Tell me where Annabeth is.”

“It’s not over,” Alabaster hissed, twisting his wrists in Percy’s hold. “It’s never over. You have to pay.” He sounded like he was rambling, as if the words had been playing in his head for so long that they were all he knew.

“For what?” Percy demanded, thoroughly exasperated by his protests. “What did I ever do to you?”

“You destroyed my life!” Alabaster screamed at him before collapsing back to the ground in a heap. “You took everything from me – my home, my friends, everything that made my life worth living. Our rebellion was going to help all the demigods – all of us. Then you had to go and kill my friends, and had me exiled from Camp Half-Blood. Do you know what it’s like to be exiled?” Alabaster continued scathingly. “To have absolutely no one, to have no hope for a brighter future? Nah, you couldn’t know – you’ve got everything, a lovely wife and a disgustingly adorable child, a successful career and respect among all the demigods. Why should you get all the blessings, Jackson? Why should you get all the happiness, when all you’ve done is step on other people to get where you are? Why should you get to live a happy life, while the rest of us suffer?”

“So you kidnap my wife? Are you completely insane?”

“You have to learn,” Alabaster raved. “You have to learn what it’s like to have everything you care about stripped away from you!” Then the other demigod made a wild grab for his own sword, and Percy launched himself back, stumbling away as Alabaster lunged towards him like a man possessed.

Percy glanced over at Nico, who was ably trading blows with a manticore; he watched as Nico ducked, and Percy saw a flash of golden blonde-

_Annabeth?_

“No, no no no!” Alabaster moaned, drawing his attention back. He looked as pale as his namesake, truly horrified as the manticore screamed and collapsed, revealing a figure that Percy recognized instinctively. Her hand was on Nico’s shoulder, and she was glaring in Percy’s direction with a fairly murderous expression.

Clearly everything was back to normal.

Alabaster went quiet, and Percy turned back to him just in time to see his panic turn to suicidal resolve. “I think your plan is falling apart,” Percy said, raising an eyebrow at the other demigod.

Alabaster’s lip curled as he lunged forward, attacking with all his remaining strength. “All I care is that you fall apart too,” he hissed.

Percy stared down at the son of Hecate, utterly confused by his words. Before he could open his mouth to say something, several things happened in immediate succession: the image of the weary man below him shimmered just before Percy felt something sharp pierce his skin and slide between his ribs; he heard Annabeth scream his name, and the sharp object jerked from him as a struggle erupted behind him. Before he could fall someone materialized at his side to support him; when he looked down he saw a head of wild black hair. Nico tilted them, and Percy saw Annabeth wrestling Alabaster to the ground before summarily knocking him out with the pommel of her dracon-bone sword. He flopped to the ground limply; Annabeth watched him for a few seconds, breathing heavily as she stood over him, before stepping over his body towards Percy.

She truly was a sight for sore eyes, and despite the flaring pain in his torso he was glad to see her familiar expression – somewhere between fondness and one that said ‘you idiot’ quite plainly – once more.

“You idiots,” she sighed, and the world was back to normal. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“You were with us earlier,” Nico pointed out, voicing Percy’s confusion.

Annabeth stared at them, and Percy got a sickly feeling in his stomach that had nothing to do with his flesh wound. “I’ve been looking for you guys for hours.”

“You weren’t . . .”

“Sit,” Annabeth commanded, and Nico began lowering Percy down against a rock wall. She knelt beside him, pulling his shirt up to reveal the wound. “Do either of you have anything?”

Nico began rifling through his bag for the remaining scraps of ambrosia. “Just a little bit,” he said, offering it to her. Immediately Annabeth began feeding the small pieces to him and he felt the wound start to close bit by bit.

“What are you guys talking about?” Annabeth asked, directing the question at Nico. The son of Hades looked a little shocked at first, but began to tell her how he’d felt her soul enter the Underworld, how they’d found her body and he went to bring her soul back. He floundered for a moment as he talked about the Underworld, before he admitted to Percy’s shock that he hadn’t been able to find Annabeth’s soul at all. When Nico said that she’d been with them for a short time as they tried to escape, Annabeth shook her head. “This is the first time I’m seeing you guys. He was keeping me deeper in the mountain – he used the Mist to try and recreate the Labyrinth, and I’ve been there trying to find my way out ever since he put me in there.”

“So, when we found you earlier . . .” Nico prompted.

“Probably Alabaster using the Mist.”

“You know what?” Percy said. “I am so done with this Mist thing. Love Hazel, nothing against Hazel, but I am so done with Mist and crazy witches.”

Annabeth rubbed his shoulder comfortingly.

“He doesn’t look good,” Nico commented from his side.

“His lung was punctured,” Annabeth reported, holding up the last piece of ambrosia. “And this is it. The lung is mostly intact right now, but this won’t heal the surface wound. That’s still pretty deep.”

“We can stitch that up,” Nico answered confidently, leaning in and tilting Percy’s face up by his chin. “How do you feel, Percy?”

“Like I got stabbed in the back. Otherwise, peachy.”

Nico chewed on his lip. “I can’t make the jump back to Camp Jupiter yet. We wouldn’t make it.”

“I do have a dog – remember?” Percy groaned. It had been a while since he’d called for Mrs. O’Leary, but he was sure she’d still answer.

Nico blanched, then his expression softened with recognition. “I’d forgotten about her.”

Percy rolled his eyes. “Give me my backpack.” Annabeth ignored him, rummaging around his pack herself for several minutes before pulling out a long, bone-white dog whistle. She held it to his mouth, and after making a face at her Percy blew into the mouthpiece, issuing a high-pitched call he knew Mrs. O’Leary would respond to. “I’m injured, not helpless,” he snarked at his wife. “I can blow my own whistle.”

Annabeth ruffled his hair affectionately. “You sound like a petulant toddler. I never thought I’d miss that.”

Percy tilted his head back and looked up at her, just taking in the features he’d missed so much in the last month that he’d dreamed about incessantly. “I love you,” he said wistfully.

“I know,” she responded with a kiss to the crown of his head before rising gingerly.

“Ugh, you always have to Han Solo me in front of our friends,” Percy groused good-naturedly.

“Only when you get sappy,” Annabeth grinned, pulling out a detailed map from Percy’s bag. She unfolded it and started scouring the paper.

“Looking for water?” Nico asked.

“Anything we can dunk my favorite idiot in.”

“There was a stream down near the base of the mountain,” Nico suggested.

“Better if there’s a full river or an ocean inlet nearby. Since he’s stopped doing regular quests his body has gotten a little more selective with the healing benefits of water.”

Several feet away, Alabaster groaned.

Annabeth jerked, ready to punch him out again, but Nico got to him first just as Alabaster began to wake fully.

“. . . an idiot, you know that?” he heard. “A fucking asshole. You want to blame Percy for your miserable life? I was exiled too. I did it to myself, and I tried to blame Percy for a while, but you know what? It doesn’t do shit. Blaming other people for your shitty existence doesn’t do anything. You have to pick yourself up and make things better for yourself, no matter how hard it is. You go someplace new and make new friends – you start over. It’s not easy, but it is doable. You just have to get your head out of your ass and do something.”

It might have been a combination of the pain and adrenaline from fighting and being wounded, something slid into place in his mind. It felt like the puzzle pieces that made up Nico di Angelo in his mind – that he’d struggled with for years – suddenly all clicked into place and the picture it created didn’t seem completely crazy to him. Maybe he’d had Nico all wrong from the get-go, maybe he’d been misjudging him for so long it was incredible to actually look at him with fresh eyes. Maybe he could ask, when he was feeling a little better and could form full thoughts and words; the idea that maybe he’d been misreading Nico’s actions and feelings was settling in his mind now, but he didn’t want to make himself seem self-important or anything. He just wondered if that was really what he was missing in coming to know Nico.

With one final punch Nico got up and stalked away, shaking his hand out. Percy wanted to call him back, but he figured his friend probably needed some space after all that. He tilted his head towards Annabeth, who was watching Nico’s retreating back.

“Glad he found an outlet for those feelings,” Annabeth said lightly. “Sounds like you two finally came to an understanding.”

“It only took us seven years,” Percy groaned. Then he threaded his fingers through Annabeth’s. “You ok?”

She nodded after a brief hesitation. “I’ll be even better once we get out of here and get home.”

“Galen’s with Hazel in New Rome,” he said.

“Good. I miss that little nugget.”

Percy was silent for a little bit, and found himself just looking, taking in the sight of Annabeth – he hadn’t seen her in nearly a month, after all. “I’m glad you’re alright. I was worried sick about you.”

“Worried enough that you managed to convince Nico di Angelo to come along to help you out?”

“Rachel said I needed his help. I try not to ignore Oracles when I can help it.”

They talked for a little bit longer, until Nico returned and sat heavily beside them.

“Hey,” Percy grunted, kicking Nico’s knee gently when he didn’t speak for a bit. “You ok?”

Nico’s eyebrows lifted towards his hairline. “I’m not the one who got stabbed, remember?”

“No, but you did risk breaking your hand . . . he kind of got to you, didn’t he.” He made sure Nico couldn’t interpret it as a question, since he already knew the answer. He’d never seen Nico react to an enemy like that, and he hoped he never would again.

Nico’s expression turned darker, but after a moment he looked away and took a deep breath. “When I came back from the Underworld, he found me first.”

“Pretending to be me again?”

Nico nodded solemnly. “I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was acting strangely. Then he attacked me, and I knew it wasn’t really you.”

“I’m sorry for pushing you earlier.”

“It’s fine. I know you were worried.”

“It isn’t fine,” Percy corrected him. “I shouldn’t push you to talk if you’re not ready. I should have been able to figure out something was really wrong.”

“I’m seriously not playing the blame game with you,” Nico said, shaking his head. “I’ll forgive you for being obnoxiously worried.”

“You’re only saying that because I’m injured.”

Nico shrugged. “We’re fine, Percy.”

“Are we? You were pretty freaked out earlier.”

“Still pretty freaked out, honestly. He tried to use some really outdated information to turn me against you,” Nico said quietly. “Outdated, but it still hurt.” Percy waited patiently as he saw Nico’s mouth twist in thought, as if he were contemplating saying more. Annabeth’s voice in his head reminded Percy to _wait_ and _listen_ , and it paid off when Nico opened his mouth again to speak. “I used to have this, uh, really intense crush on you,” he said, swallowing thickly. “He tried to use that against me.”

Percy was quiet for a few moments as he processed that information. It wasn’t exactly a surprise, not after he’d finally started putting the pieces together after so long, but hearing Nico say it out loud made him feel a little better, that he wasn’t putting too much importance on himself when it wasn’t deserved.

“Aren’t you going to say something?” Nico asked anxiously, breaking Percy out of his thoughts.

“Yeah, can you wake that asshole up again? I’d like to punch him in the face myself.”

“Really? That’s all?”

“I’m sorry I was an asshole. You deserved a lot better,” Percy sighed. He reached out to ruffle Nico’s hair, but pulled it back when Nico shied away, just the tiniest flinch. “Shit, I’m sorry. He really went after you, didn’t he?”

Nico shrugged. “I don’t think he liked me helping you.”

“I’m glad you’re ok, though. And that you didn’t run the other direction when you saw me again.”

Nico shook his head this time. “Once I knew it wasn’t you . . . I mean, I knew you wouldn’t hurt me.”

Percy didn’t really know what to say or do after that, because it made him want to hug Nico but he wasn’t going to force that kind of physical contact on the other man after everything.

“Listen, I know you guys are have a much needed heart to heart, but we probably need to get moving,” Annabeth said, clearing her throat and drawing their attention back to her.

“Totally ruining our broment,” Percy chuckled.

Nico turned on him, asking “Our what?” at the same time Annabeth asked “Your what?” Their combined looks of exasperation and confusion just made the situation even funnier to Percy.

“Our bonding moment!” he amended. “Which is necessary so we can be bros and not go back to being sort of friends who don’t know how to communicate with each other? Ringing any bells?”

Nico just stared at him. “Wow, I am so glad I decided to stop crushing on you ages ago. The embarrassment alone would probably do me in about now.”

Not much later a loud, booming bark echoed up the side of the mountain, and the ground started shaking beneath Percy’s feet. The huge black dog that had been a constant companion when he was younger bounded up to them, excitedly licking Percy’s torso before pushing her cold nose into Annabeth’s chest. Suddenly she seemed to realize that there was a third person present, and knocked Nico to the ground, practically laying on top of him as she whined.

“Hey, girl,” Nico croaked beneath the mass of fur. “Missed you too.”

Annabeth went over and rubbed behind one of Mrs. O’Leary’s ears. “I think you’re off the hook for transportation, Nico.”

Nico stuck an arm out and gave her a thumbs up.

“Galen’s probably adopted Hazel by now,” Percy mused. “She’s going to demand visitation rights now.”

Mrs. O’Leary heaved up and off of Nico, which left the younger demigod gasping for breath for a few moments. He lurched to stand, scratching the hellhound’s chest and neck. “I haven’t heard from Dante in a few days. I hope he’s doing ok,” he said quietly.

“I’m sure he’ll be really happy to see you,” Percy said, gathering up their bags.

Annabeth eyed Nico critically. “Who’s Dante?”

“My boyfriend,” Nico answered, blushing slightly. “He’s back at Camp Jupiter.”

She grinned widely at him. “Can’t wait to meet him.”

Dante looked away; he couldn’t wait either.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one chapter left!


	14. Part 2 Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nico barely noticed the rapidly changing scenery as they tore through the forest and city outskirts that he and Percy had traversed over the last two weeks, he was too lost in thought. He’d actually told Percy about his crush, and nothing had happened. Percy didn’t laugh at him or make fun of him for his feelings (that shouldn’t have surprised him really considering his earlier reaction to Nico introducing Dante as his boyfriend) but the event had been built up in Nico’s mind for so long that he’d been expecting fallout when there was none to be had. Percy had accepted the admission, and his primary reaction had been that he wanted to hit Alabaster for using it against him. Nico almost wanted to laugh at himself and the whole situation, at the molehill that had become a mountain in his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who commented, subscribed, left kudos, and sent me messages. I would not have finished this fic without your interest and encouragement. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who took a chance on an a fic featuring an OC prominently. I can't even begin to express how much your responses affected my own excitement and the writing process as well.
> 
> Also a huge thank you to my betas for putting up with me for the last 15 months, and for all the awesome brainstorming we managed.

Chapter 12

They left not long after, climbing onto the hellhound’s back (Percy with some assistance, as his shoulder and left arm were immobilized by bandages) and carrying a still-unconscious Alabaster Torrington. Camp Jupiter had ways of dealing with traitors and those who targeted other demigods, whereas Camp Half-Blood only expelled them; they figured that Reyna would be able to figure out what to do with the wayward son of Hecate.

Nico barely noticed the rapidly changing scenery as they tore through the forest and city outskirts that he and Percy had traversed over the last two weeks, he was too lost in thought. He’d actually told Percy about his crush, and nothing had happened. Percy didn’t laugh at him or make fun of him for his feelings (that shouldn’t have surprised him really considering his earlier reaction to Nico introducing Dante as his boyfriend) but the event had been built up in Nico’s mind for so long that he’d been expecting fallout when there was none to be had. Percy had accepted the admission, and his primary reaction had been that he wanted to hit Alabaster for using it against him. Nico almost wanted to laugh at himself and the whole situation, at the molehill that had become a mountain in his mind.

He’d done, he realized, the one thing he insisted that he wasn’t going to do over the course of this quest: he’d actually bonded with Percy, against all odds and his own insistence. He couldn’t pinpoint the moment he abandoned his own convictions, and for the first time Nico really wasn’t sure he cared. Nico felt like he could consider them friends, which was an outcome he hadn’t expected in the least. Not only did he find himself thinking of Percy as a friend and ally, but there was an element of respect between them as well – which was more than Nico had ever thought possible.

Despite going home with good feelings in that regard, Nico was still ecstatic to go home and see Dante. They hadn’t spoken since the incident with the cave, when Dante talked him through the post-panic attack jumble of his head. It had been too dangerous to try and contact him in the meantime, and he was glad Dante hadn’t attempted to do the same. His confrontation with Alabaster had made Nico feel more shattered than he wanted to admit, and all he could think about was burying his face against his boyfriend’s chest to remind himself that yes – what they had was a real and solid thing. It was theirs, and not even deranged witches could it from him.

Nico hadn’t spoken with Dante in several days, hasn’t seen him in the flesh in more than two weeks, and the distance between him and his boyfriend was starting to rankle him. It was absurd to him that not seeing Dante's face, or hearing his voice, or secretly relishing his tight embrace, would create such an ache in his chest. He’d been independent for so long before growing accustomed to Dante’s constant companionship, and Nico missed him - missed his laughter, his cooking, even the lingering taste of nicotine and mint gum on his breath. Everything felt dull without those constants, and the realization made Nico swallow hard. He didn’t want Dante to doubt how he really felt anymore.  

0o0

By the time Dante got word that Nico and Percy were approaching the borders of Camp Jupiter riding a giant dog, he’d finally found a routine in the camp that worked for him. He might almost describe himself as comfortable in Nico’s old home. In between training here and there with Reyna and getting to know Jason and Hazel, he’d started working a few hours here and there at a local trattoria, and the manager had been pleased with his performance on his first day when the cook had called out sick, leaving Dante to fill in. Dante had been cooking with his Mama and Nonna for so long that many of the dishes came as second-nature to him, and he’d even started expanding the trattoria’s menu on occasion.

He’d even gotten a chance to talk to Mama again a few days ago, which had been a huge help. Dante was used to seeing or at least talking with his mother nearly every day, and to be so far away from her had been tough at first. Somehow Piper had set up their talk to look like a Skype call, which kept her from questioning how she could see his face. Hazel had called the magic she used ‘Mist,’ and as time went on Dante was incredibly thankful for that magic.

When a customer came in to let him know that Nico was on his way back, Dante promptly left his station. He enjoyed his job, but he’d been waiting for Nico to come back for what felt like a month – he needed to be able to see and talk to him again. He jogged out towards the Forum, where he saw an enormous black dog slowing to a walk with three figures sitting astride the canine with a fourth strapped to its back, struggling and kicking from the looks of it. The dog turned in a circle and laid down, allowing the figures to climb off carefully.

Dante watched as he came closer, as Nico climbed down first, giving the fourth figure (now awake and screaming insults at them) over to the Legion; then he helped Annabeth and Percy down next, and situated himself under Percy’s good arm to help support him as they headed towards the gathering crowd.

He watched Nico scanned the crowd, still supporting Percy; word traveled fast that they'd returned and the Forum was starting to fill with demigods who’d come to welcome them back. Soon enough though Nico’s gaze found his, and Dante managed to push his way to the front of a small crowd gathering to greet them, and the sight of his bright, ecstatic grin made Dante's heart clench in his chest; he suddenly felt like he hadn't seen Nico di Angelo in years. Every emotion – good and bad – came flooding back to him – relief and love and joy but also fear: the fear of his ultimate rejection. He wasn’t really sure where that fear came from, not when they’d come to their unspoken understanding, but Dante figured there was always a possibility that Nico might decide to leave him behind for this world. He didn’t think it would happen, but he couldn’t contain that irrational fear.

He hedged, right on the edge of the crowd, unsure if it was ok for him to come out and greet them, especially if Percy was injured. Dante didn’t want to be in the way.

The blonde woman supporting Percy’s other side – who could only be his wife, he assumed, since she was the one they’d been searching for – turned and said something to Nico. He looked relieved, and shouted "Can we get a medic?" as he scanned the crowd briefly. He shifted Percy’s weight over to her right before one of the demigods rushed forward and took over Nico's position, helping Percy away. Dante started, his whole body lurching forward, but he stopped himself when Percy grabbed Nico's arm and said something to him.

Whatever Percy had said it must have been encouraging, because once the other man was safely headed towards a medic, Nico turned and bounded towards his boyfriend at a full run. Dante felt himself grin helplessly as something lurched in his chest; it felt like a magnet deep in his chest pulling him towards Nico, like just the thought of Nico or his name made the marrow in his bones sing with joy. He was home, home at last – so long as they could forgive each other and move on – something he desperately hoped he could do.

Dante hadn’t moved from his place though, and Nico slowed to a walk a few feet away from him. There was a light in Nico’s eyes that he was too nervous to name, but it might’ve been hope or happiness or something much, much deeper. He came to a halt about a foot away from Dante, and he found himself fresh out of words to express what he was feeling. He wanted to say it all: I missed you, please don’t leave, I _love_ you, but nothing would come out.

Instead of speaking, since he wasn’t sure he could just yet, Dante raised both hands, gently cupping Nico’s jaw. His fingers pressed tenderly against his skin, thumbs rubbing against the other man’s cheekbones. All the while, Dante felt like his heart was going to leap right out of his ribcage – and Nico appeared to be having the same response. His eyes were wide and he was holding himself incredibly still after sinking a little bit into Dante’s touch at first. Then he felt a tugging again, like he and Nico were opposite poles of a magnet, but this time the pull was in Nico’s arms, dragging him closer until his arms were wrapped tightly around Dante’s shoulders.

 _“I missed you so much,”_ Dante whispered in his ear, his voice cracking painfully.

Nico returned the embrace fully, twisting his hands in Dante’s shirt tightly. _“Missed you too,”_ he whispered back. _“Does this mean you’re going to stay? I can keep you?”_

 _“Well I’ll have to run a background check,”_ Dante muttered playfully.

Nico let out a burst of laughter and kissed him chastely. _“I can work with that.”_

0o0

Dante pulled away just slightly, enough that he could press their foreheads together and tuck a few stray locks of hair out of Nico’s face, the tips of their noses touching lightly. Nico closed his eyes and just breathed the scent of him in – nicotine, mint gum, fresh basil and rosemary all wafted through his nose, making him feel warm and content and at home; he was almost certain that Dante was doing the same thing as he rubbed his hands up and down Nico’s back, moving in comforting circles that made Nico sag against him in sheer relief. He held on even tighter, his hands clenching in Dante’s shirt when he couldn’t bear to let him go.

 _“I love you,”_ Nico breathed, and he felt Dante tense and immediately relax in his arms. _“I want to be able to say that to you every day from now on.”_

For a second, Dante looked startled. Then he relaxed, pulling Nico even closer. _“As if I could say no to that,”_ Dante joked, pressing a wet kiss to Nico’s forehead. _“I love you, too. I didn’t want to put pressure on you to say it,”_ he continued a little more seriously, cupping Nico’s face in his hands again.

_“I’m good now. I missed you a lot.”_

_“Me too,”_ Dante hummed, just holding him tightly.

“Give him a kiss!” Nico’s eyes flew open when he heard Percy’s faint shout, and he scowled.

Every in tune with his emotions, Dante asked if everything was ok almost immediately after that. Nico couldn’t help but chuckle to himself, because Percy had been rooting for them to reconcile for the last two weeks, just because Dante made him happy. When he asked, _“Is Percy being a jerk?”_ Nico definitely started laughing.

 _“No, he’s not being a jerk,”_ he reassured Dante. _“He wanted me to do this,”_ he said before tugging Dante closer and kissing him fully.

Dante's arms came up around his shoulders, fingers digging into his skin hard enough to leave bruises behind - Nico wouldn't mind that, he realized. Having his boyfriend’s fingerprints on him, reminding him of his continued presence in Nico's life, was a welcome mark if he ever saw one. And he was warm - so warm, and Nico couldn't help but notice how cold he'd been without his own personal Venetian spaceheater. 

 

 _"What happened to Percy?"_ Dante asked breathlessly when Nico pulled away just slightly.

 _“He got stabbed in the back,”_ Nico answered bluntly. _“He’ll be fine. Come back here, I missed kissing you.”_

 _“Can we go somewhere to talk?”_ Dante asked quietly, pulling out of Nico’s reach.

Nico tried to chase him for a moment before he processed the words and let his hands drop to Dante’s forearms. _“Yeah, we can talk.”_

_“Back to the apartment?”_

Nico paused, wondering if being back in their rather small apartment would make him feel trapped when Dante delivered bad news. He wasn’t sure at all what tone their conversation was going to take on, and he immediately second-guessed himself. Based on the shared proclamations from a few moments ago, it really shouldn’t be too devastating, so the apartment was probably safe. He nodded, rubbing his hands up and down Dante’s arms, just happy to touch and soak in his boyfriend’s warmth.

They both turned to walk towards the apartment building, and before Nico could stuff his hands in his coat pockets Dante reached out and grabbed his hand, threading their fingers together. Nico was struck once more by how well they fit together. He wanted to be able to do this for years on end without worrying if he was going to lose Dante to secrets kept between them. Those days, he hoped, were long over.

 _“Relax,”_ Dante implored, squeezing his hand. _“I’m not breaking up with you, I just told you I loved you. I want to talk about some things, that’s all.”_

 _“I wasn’t worried,”_ Nico bluffed.

Dante snorted, clearly telling him what he thought of that statement.

 _“It’s that obvious, huh?”_  Nico asked sheepishly.

 _“You have a tell or two,”_ Dante confided, nudging Nico’s arm with his elbow. _“You feel like you’re about to jump right out of your skin,”_ he commented. _“If I wanted to break up with you, we wouldn’t be here right now.”_

Nico remembered offering Dante the out before he left with Percy – remembered how offended Dante was that he thought Dante would leave like that.

_“I know. And I know we’ve been talking, but now that you’re here again I just . . . I’m worried you’ll disappear.”_

_“I won’t. I’m right here next to you. And I don’t think I’m quite ready to let you go yet.”_

They finished walking to the apartment in silence, with Nico holding Dante’s hand tightly. Now that he had him here again, he really didn’t want to let him go again. Despite having only been gone a little more than two weeks, the apartment Dante was inhabiting had changed drastically Where it had been bland and Spartan when Nico departed, now Dante’s personality seemed to have filled up every wall and crevice; it even smelled like him – like his cologne, mixed with the rosemary, basil, and garlic he liked to cook with. The couch felt remarkably more comfortable when they sat on it this time around, and Nico wondered if Dante had slept out on it on more than one occasion.

Nico settled himself on one side of the couch while Dante wordlessly filled two glasses with water and set them on the table in front of the couch. Then Dante took the seat towards the middle of the couch, closer to Nico.

_“Let me say what I want to say – I already told you I wasn’t breaking up with you, so relax.”_

Nico still fidgeted, but he tried to keep his nervous ticks to a minimum so they could talk without distractions. Dante took a deep breath, pursing his lips, and Nico took the brief moment to really look at his boyfriend for the first time in weeks. He didn’t really look like he’d changed much – maybe his olive-toned skin was a little tanner from being out in the California sun, but his dark, curly hair remained the same along with his kind, bright eyes. The way he was holding himself felt a little alien, Nico realized as he watched him; Dante was usually fairly conscious of his posture and the way he was being perceived, but sitting beside him now he seemed a bit deflated, like he’d been tense for so long and was only now finding a way to relax.

 _“I believe you,”_ he said, and Nico froze completely. _“I believe that you kept these things from me to protect me. And I trust you. I won’t say I’m sorry for how I reacted, because I still think I was pretty justified.”_

 _“No, you were justified,”_ Nico agreed with him whole-heartedly. If he had just been honest with him earlier, their problems would have been minimized and their combined heartache might have been far, far less.

_“So I’m going to ask for honesty from here on out. I know about this world now, there’s no need to protect me from it. I will be as honest as I can be with you in return.”_

_“I think I can do that.”_

_“Good, because I have questions – a lot of them. I had no idea I was dating a demigod hero.”_

_“Oh no,”_ Nico groaned, dropping his face into his hands. _“You’ve been talking to Jason.”_

Dante laughed, and Nico’s heart clenched; he hadn’t realized just how much he’d missed the bright expression of joy that he occasionally couldn’t help. _“And Reyna, and Hazel, and Piper, and Will,”_ Dante listed gleefully, ticking off fingers one by one. _“They sing your praises pretty loudly.”_

 _“Oh no, not Will too.”_ Nico peeked out from between his fingers. _“They’ve been lying to you. I’m not a hero.”_

Dante grinned and rolled his eyes, shuffling closer on the couch. _“You’re lying to yourself, I think_ ,” he said, wrapping his arms around Nico and tugging him in close. Welcoming the warmth and the embrace, Nico practically burrowed into Dante’s chest to avoid responding. He felt Dante sigh a little before he started rubbing his hands up and down Nico’s back. _“I’m proud of you.”_

Nico clutched the fabric of his shirt in his hands. He couldn’t find the words to make Dante’s declaration less . . . impactful. They rang like cathedral bells in his head, drowning out the dismissive inner voice he’d unconsciously cultivated since he was an adolescent.

Dante thought he was a hero. He was proud of him. He _loved_ him. As warmth from those words bloomed in his chest and Dante’s body provided even more heat, Nico felt struck once more by how cold he’d felt in the last few weeks without him.

 _“It’s been a long week, hasn’t it?”_ Dante asked softly, rubbing circles into his back. _“You want to get some rest?”_

 _“Only if you stay with me,”_ Nico mumbled from within the folds of Dante’s shirt.

 _“Of course,”_ Dante promised, slipping his arms under Nico’s and lifting him up off the couch gently. Nico allowed him to lead and guide him, because now that he was surrounded by warmth and completely content he really didn’t have the energy to move. He didn’t protest when Dante sat him on the bed and untied his shoes, or when he began undressing him. Dante settled Nico into the bed they hadn’t had the chance to share yet in his shirt and underwear, then stripped down himself. He curled around Nico’s back, wrapping his arms around him and tugging him back against his chest.

Far more comfortable than he’d been in a long time, Nico drifted off quickly despite it being the middle of the afternoon.

When he woke again it was dark outside the bedroom window, and Dante was sleepily pressing kisses to the nape of his neck. It was strange to wake up to after sleeping alone for the last few weeks, but he welcomed the familiar sensations of his lips, arms wrapped around him like an octopus, hips rolling lazily, grinding a half hard erection against him. Nico hummed sleepily and shifted his hips back before he could second guess himself; Dante made a small noise in response and squeezed him around the middle a little tighter.

 _“I know you’re awake,”_ Nico whispered, his eyes still closed and his mouth curling into a secretive smile.

Dante grumbled something unintelligible and slipped his hand under Nico’s shirt, splaying his fingers against his lower belly. _“I missed sleeping next to you,”_ he sighed.

 _“Missed you too,”_ Nico murmured, covering Dante’s hand with his own.

_“What time is it?”_

This time Nico grumbled and stretched to grab Dante’s watch – the one Nico had given him, he was pleased to see – on the bedside table. _“Four.”_

 _“Want to go back to sleep?”_ Dante pulled Nico back against him once he resettled himself. Nico had forgotten how warm Dante was, so he didn’t hold himself responsible for the contented sigh that found its way out of his mouth.

_“Why, have something in mind if I say no?”_

The response was a press of lips against his neck followed by a gentle bite. _“Maybe.”_

Nico grinned widely and allowed Dante to push his underwear down over his hips to rest around his thighs; when Dante’s warmth left him briefly to rifle through a drawer, Nico took the moment to peel his shirt off and toss it to the ground. The other man settled in behind him again, guiding his slickened erection between his thighs. Dante enveloped him, rolling his hips to thrust languidly between his legs and wrapping his arms around him, one hand resting on his chest and the other, slick with lubricant, stroking Nico’s erection to full hardness. Nico gave himself over to the pleasure he offered, reaching back to tangle his fingers in Dante’s hair tightly and pushing his own hips back to meet Dante’s thrusts.

It was a well-practiced dance between them, one Nico relished. He enjoyed penetrative sex, but something about this felt far more intimate, far more personal – slow and languid, with no rush to finish or push each other further; it was all about their personal enjoyment and pleasure, and he loved being able to share that with Dante. It was a part of himself that he’d never shared with anyone else, and he hoped it stayed that way.

0o0

 _“You seem different,”_ Dante rasped, lazily stroking Nico’s collar bone with his fingers. The following morning found them lying in Dante’s bed, the room an absolute mess now after several enthusiastic rounds and orgasms. Nico was pretty sure they’d broken a lamp, and that he could see his jeans covering the window. His muscles were sore – fantastically so, still singing with residual ecstasy.

 _“Good different or bad?”_ he murmured, smirking.

Dante pressed a sloppy kiss to his cheek. _“You jerk.”_

Nico forced his body to move, ignoring the stiffening muscles in favor of turning on his side to look at him. “ _I know what you mean,”_ he muttered after a moment of contemplation. _“I feel different. Still the same, just a little different.”_

 _“Still my Nico?”_ Dante asked tentatively, like he was anxious about his answer. He was tracing his fingers over the bridge of Nico’s nose now, pushing strands of dark hair out of his eyes.

 _“Still your Nico,”_ he confirmed without hesitation. _“Can’t get rid of me that easily.”_

_“And what if I said I didn’t want to be away from you like that again? Wondering if you were ok, if you were safe, every day? Lying in this bed wishing you were here with me?”_

Nico smiled despite the charged words and scooted closer, welcoming Dante’s arm over his shoulder. _“Let’s make a deal. That was my last quest – no more laughing in the face of danger. But I want to come back here once in a while. I forgot how much some of these people mean to me.”_

_“No more running?”_

_“No more running.”_

They started packing the next day. Dante was anxious to get home now that Nico had returned, though he assured him that he’d made several friends at the camp. It was surreal to watch him with Hazel, who was easily still the person Nico was closest to in this world, with the added help of the medallion Hazel had given Dante. Nico had been startled when Dante started speaking English when he sat down with them, and he was ecstatic that Dante had been able to communicate with everyone after a fashion. The night before they left, Percy showed up at their door with Annabeth and Galen, and they spent most of the night talking, trading tales about their journey, and passing Galen from person to person.

While he and Percy had become friends, he still wasn’t sure what to say to him now that they were around their significant others. He knew it shouldn’t have made him treat Percy any differently, but he couldn’t help it. It helped to have Dante there, because whenever he felt Nico getting tense he’d give his hand a squeeze to reassure him.

“Hey,” Percy said, shifting nervously from foot to foot.

“Hi,” Nico responded automatically. “What’s up?”

“I just wanted to say goodbye. And thank you. I don’t think I could have made that trip without you.”

Nico felt the smile creep onto his face. He got an odd sense of déjà vu from this encounter: the last time they’d parted ways, Percy had approached him in a similar way, and Nico had rejected his conciliatory demeanor entirely. Nico didn’t feel the need to repeat that in the slightest. “I’m glad I could help.”

Percy scratched his head. “I guess I really wouldn’t have made it far without you before, either.”

Nico looked away; Percy was referring to an entirely different time, when he was in a completely different state emotionally and psychologically.

“You’re not leaving for good, right?” Percy asked, jarring Nico out of his thoughts.

“Nah. Dante went and got attached to Hazel,” he joked. “Made me promise we’d come back.”

“I knew I liked him,” Percy nodded confidently. “Just make sure you invite us when you get hitched, ok? No secret Italian weddings.”

Nico barely heard the last few words as he froze up just thinking about the possibility of getting married. He sputtered out a protest, waving his hands in front of him, but Percy pushed them down gently.

“I’m sorry, I was just teasing.” He was grinning widely, and Nico was very pleased that the sight of it still did absolutely nothing to his stomach or heart.

“Just for that, no invitations for you,” Nico threatened ineffectually.

“We’ll see about that. Take care, alright?” Then Percy held out his hand for Nico to shake.

After a second of staring at the open palm being offered to him, Nico took it and thought _fuck it_ , pulling Percy into a brief hug.

Parting as friends with Percy Jackson was the last thing Nico expected when he opened his door to find the man on the other side of the portal more than two weeks ago, but he figured it was a good enough start to a new chapter for them as any.

Dante was waiting for him in the Forum; when he approached, Dante grinned broadly at him and held out his hand. They had a long way ahead of them, both in travel and rebuilding what they’d lost between, but between the beautiful smile (just for him) and the effortless offering of his hand and heart, Nico was confident they’d make it there just fine. He fit his palm into Dante’s, squeezing gently and giving his own hopeful smile in return, before taking the first step forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. I sincerely hope you enjoyed this story, and I look forward to reading your responses. 
> 
> I don't really know if more will be added to this 'verse. I have some drabbles written for Nico and Dante as requested on Tumblr, so I might consider putting them here and making this into a series - but at this time I can't guarantee I'll add on anything really lengthy.
> 
> Feel free to message or prompt me for something specific in this 'verse at http://darthvair-65.tumblr.com/
> 
> All the love, my friends. You guys are the best.


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